For King and Country
by Relik
Summary: The realm is imperiled by the magic of the Necromancer, and the King's forces are faltering. While fleeing an attack, King's Messenger Kamiya Kaoru stumbles across a remnant of the first war against the Necromancer, the legendary swordsman called the Battousai. Rewrite of my old 2006 story. Rated T to be safe, for mild language and violence.
1. Heart of the Sword

**Author's Note:** Greetings. It's been a while, yes? When last I wrote in the Ruroken fandom, it was 2009. A lot has happened since then. I graduated college, got married, and started grad school. Wow. Still... My love for Rurouni Kenshin had persisted, and this particular story has lingered at the back of my mind. This is a rewrite of my first Rurouni Kenshin fanfiction, which is still up on my profile as 'The Last Messenger'. I have thought about revisiting the tale for years, and now I finally am. I hope that this version is an improvement and is as enjoyable as the original. Please review and tell me what you think.

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_ The boy liked helping his mother with the chores, because when he did, she hugged him and thanked him in her gentle voice and stroked her fingers through his hair. He liked the warmth of her arms around him, and the smell of the indigo plants that lingered on her skin and clothes, but most of all he loved that when she said "You're a good boy, Shinta. Thank you." she looked a little less tired._

_ So he helped to tend and harvest the plants, and to carry the baskets of leaves to the dyers in the village down the mountain. When his mother used the money they got from selling the leaves to buy rice and tofu and salt, he helped carry the bundles back up the mountain, and always she smiled at him, soft with love._

* * *

**Chapter One**

She froze when she came out of the trees and was faced abruptly with a vast plain scattered with the remains of a battle long past. The setting sun dyed the scene a garish red, lending the grass a startlingly blood-like hue, edging the broken piles of bones and decaying armor with fire. The woman's jaw tightened.

It was less of a battlefield and more of a graveyard; many warriors had died on the field, spilt blood and offal, and it seemed as if not one of them had been buried. No sane person would set foot on that ground, so obviously un-cleansed and shadowed with death. But the woman standing at the edge of the killing field darted a glance behind her, squared her shoulders, and walked forward.

The dying sunlight washed across her dark clothes, illuminating the stains and rips and tears in them. They had been fine, once, made of a sturdy fabric suitable for hard travel but finely stitched. Her face above the dirty collar was fine, too, smooth-cheeked with large blue eyes. But like the clothes, it too was marred, drawn and smudged with exhaustion.

Her step was slow and deliberate, as if each footfall had to be planned out and anticipated, and her eyes roamed restlessly across the field. The skin around them was tight with worry and fatigue. She threw several wary looks back they way she'd come, venturing further afield, picking her way through the sun-bleached bones and half-rotten armor toward the hillock that rose from the center of the plain. As she drew closer, the number of the dead seemed to increase, as if the knoll had lain at the heart and heat of the battle.

Cresting the hill, she paused and cast a slow, critical gaze upon the surrounding field. From her vantage point, each corner of the long-ago battlefield was visible, and this seemed to please her, for she gave a decisive nod and settled herself on the ground. Her breath hitched as she did so, movements stiff with either injury or fatigue, but she folded her legs under her and drew her tattered _haori_ around her with the air of one preparing for a long night's vigil.

The sun set and the quarter moon rose, silent witness to her struggle to remain awake. She shivered when the wind slipped icy fingers through the rends in her clothes, but she welcomed the chill's assistance in keeping her awake, turning her face into the wind. It, and her stubbornness, were hard pressed to keep her exhaustion at bay, as time and again her head nodded forward and jerked back as she caught herself. Twice she remained bowed, sleep making its demands upon her, but each time she jolted awake within seconds, muscles tensing and her eyes frantically scanning the field for anything that might have crept upon her in those moments of inattention.

But nothing stirred in that forgotten place; it remained empty of all living things aside from the huddled woman on the knoll. Until midnight.

At midnight, a sudden fierce wind sent her hands flying up to grasp her collar as her clothes flapped against her. Her long tail of black hair streamed out like a banner, and some of the smaller bits of detritus on the field swirled in strange patterns, tumbling across the ground, catching on this bit of armor or that shattered bone.

Her eyes followed a bit of faded cloth as it fluttered through the air and came to rest at the feet of the man standing before her. She started, having not heard nor seen him approach. She stared up at him with shocked blue eyes, and from the shadows obscuring his face, he stared back.

"Well?" he said, his voice low and curiously flat. "Aren't you going to beg for your life?"

The woman blinked, her chapped lips parting. She asked, slowly: "Is there a reason why I should?"

There was a long pause as she peered up into his face, trying to see through the shadows. But nothing was visible except for the seemingly youthful curve of one cheek.

"Do you not know the legend of this place?" he asked finally, still with that quiet, oddly emotionless tone. She shook her head, shivering a bit as a sudden chill swept her body. The man shifted, the moonlight outlining the folds in his clothes. "Many years ago, a Necromancer rose, and wished to make this country his own. He created an army of twisted creatures to serve him, and marched against the rightful King. The King had many loyal men to stand beside him, but the Necromancer was powerful and might have won the war if not for a swordsman of unusual skill, the King's right hand. All opponents the Necromancer set against him, he defeated, and the Necromancer began to hate this enemy. The two faced each other at last in the middle of a great battle. The swordsman mortally wounded the Necromancer, but before he died, the Necromancer stole the swordsman's heart and set a geas upon him. The spirit of the swordsman was bound to the battlefield upon which they fought, cursed to kill any who set foot upon it after sunset."

He fell silent. The woman's head dipped, her fingers clasped together. She said, quietly, wearily: "If you are cursed to this, then simple words can't stop you. I am unarmed and I have no magicks to help me, but tattered as I am I still have my pride. If I am to die, then I will do so with dignity. I will not beg."

The spirit inclined his head. "There is one way for you to avoid this fate."

The woman watched him warily, the moonlight shining on her face accentuating the dark smudges under her eyes, turning her face cadaverous. The swordsman turned away. "I will release you if you can return my heart to me."

"What?" she said, brow furrowing. "But…"

She stopped and frowned, thinking. "You are bound to this place, so… your heart must be nearby… but…"

He told her: "If you can find my heart by sunrise, I will spare your life."

Then he vanished.

"W-wait!" the woman said, half-reaching for him. But he was already gone. She lowered her hand, and worried her lip, brow drawn in thought. "His heart…"

She gazed around speculatively and stood.

)0(

The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east when the wind rose again, bringing with it the spirit swordsman. He stood motionless as the wind died and his clothing and hair settled. The woman lifted her head to look at him from where she sat on the slope of the hill.

For a moment, there was silence, and neither of them moved. Then the swordsman asked, voice impassive: "Have you failed then, like the others before you?"

She didn't answer right away, unfolding herself slowly and standing. She tossed an object to his feet with a smooth movement.

"There," she said, her voice a tired croak. The swordsman gazed down at the katana, but didn't move.

"Pick it up," he ordered. The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Why?" she asked. The edges of the swordsman's form wavered, as if he were an image of smoke and a breeze had just blown through him.

"Because I cannot." His voice was soft and indistinct, most of his attention on the battered blade just inches from him.

She moved forward and bent to pick it up, keeping a wary eye on the shadowed spirit. In the growing light, she fancied she could make out the color of his hair and clothes. The long—red?—bangs that hung in front of his face still obscured his features, however.

"Is this not your heart?" she asked, holding the katana between them, tipping the blade so that a bead of watery morning sunlight rolled up its length to the hilt. It was a well-made weapon, the blade still sound and free of rust even after countless years lying exposed on the battlefield. It just needed a new hilt, and a bit of a polish…

She was unprepared for what happened next. The swordsman moved in a flash, so quickly that she had no time to think, only to react. And she reacted in the way that had been drilled into her as a disciple of _kendo_; she leveled the blade in her hands and braced herself. Her stance was defensive, the sword extended in front of her, tip pointing to him; a stance designed to dissuade enemies from drawing closer, it was supposed to keep them at swords-length.

But the spirit swordsman didn't stop, and all thought and breath was driven from her body as he threw himself forward onto the katana, driving himself down its length until he lost his momentum. He slumped forward toward her, folded over the blade. The tip gleamed wetly from his back, just left of center. She stared wide-eyed, frozen by the action, the sword steady in her hands even as her mind started to babble. Distantly, she noted the blood that ran down the blade, coating her hands and dripping to the ground.

_'B-blood? But he's… a spirit…' _

His hands rose slowly from his sides, slowly, shakily, and she watched numbly as they closed over her own hands, which still gripped the hilt of the katana. They were warm, and slick with blood. _'He's…able to touch me…'_

Head bowed over the hilt and their clasped hands, the swordsman dragged himself further onto the blade. It was then that she was able to shake her paralysis, and her hands began to tremble under the impossibly solid fingers of the spirit.

"Oh," she whispered, and that was all she could say for a while. "Oh. Oh, no…"

She released the hilt, and suddenly her hands were fluttering over his chest, lightly touching the blood-soaked cloth and the cold steel buried in his flesh. She pressed her hands to the wound, as if she could staunch the flow of blood from it. His head rose, hair (she could see now that it really _was _red) falling away from his face, and his eyes met hers in the strengthening light of dawn.

She froze again, caught by the bright yellow of his irises. They seemed almost to glow in the pale diffuse sunlight.

Still clutching the hilt in his hands, the golden-eyed swordsman took a step back… and another… And he fell to one knee, turning his head to the side and coughing blood onto the ground. He panted, each breath ragged with pain. He shuddered once, taking in a great gulp of breath…

In a sudden, swift motion, he ripped the katana from his chest. The deep breath he'd taken in was torn from his lungs in an agonized grunt. He fell forward, propping himself up with one fist. The katana was stuck point-first into the ground, and he leaned heavily on it.

For her part, the woman merely stared, hands bloody and trembling, still outstretched from when he pulled himself and the sword from her grasp. Her lips moved soundlessly and then she sat down, hard, on the slope, gaping at the man crouched not far from her.

The first full rays of sunlight spilled over the field and hill, perversely casting the nightmare into the day-lit world.

Silence reigned on the hill for a time, and then there was a soft _clack_ as the swordsman levered himself up with the help of the katana. He looked down at the ragged figure of the one who had been able to break the geas that had been set upon him.

"Woman," he said. "Who are you?"

She gulped and, after a few false starts, managed to say: "I am Kamiya Kaoru, King's Messenger."

The swordsman turned his head to look at the sunrise, the bright light highlighting his red hair, golden eyes, and the cross-shaped scar on his left cheek. When he spoke it was little more than a whisper, in a tone of almost wonder.

"I am… Himura Kenshin…"


	2. Brought to Light

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews, follows, favorites, etc. Very much appreciated!

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_ His father and brother stayed in the dormitories of the ironworks most days, but they came to visit once a week. They were both always really tired when they did come home, since to visit they had to climb the mountain and their work was hard and long besides. Father never really said much to Shinta, but that was fine. His hands were gentle when they patted Shinta on the head, and if he had a knife with him, he could make toys out of bits of wood, like magic. And Brother always gave him horsie rides, and Mother laughed more._

_ When his family was together, everything was perfect. Nothing could go wrong._

_ And then one day, he woke with his eyes burning gold with power. And the wizard came for him._

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

"Kenshin…" Kaoru repeated through numb lips. She stared at him, noticing that there was no sign of the wound on his chest but for the bloodstains on his clothes. This fit somehow, because she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't real. That this was a dream, fake, or…

_'Am I hallucinating?' _she wondered. _'I am tired, cold, and hungry. It's possible that the strain has caught up with me.'_

It took her a moment to realize that her hallucination was talking again. She looked at him blankly. "Eh?"

"You have returned my heart to me and freed me from the geas," he repeated patiently. "If I may serve you with the life you have returned to me, I will."

"A-a life-debt?" she blurted, blanching. "No! That… that's no necessary. I…"

"Could use some assistance, if your appearance right now is any indication," he finished for her. Kaoru's mouth snapped shut and her face flamed. His eyes gleamed gold as he tilted his head, considering her. "You said you are a King's Messenger. Typically nobody would dare attack one such as you. Not unless… Is there a war being waged on your King?"

Kaoru flinched, remembering. "Yes," she said hoarsely. "Oh, yes."

His gaze sharpened on her, looked her over again, eyes lingering on the tears in her clothes… some of them looked like they could have been made with a sharp edge, a sword, a knife, perhaps arrows. His eyes flicked back up to hers, and she twitched again at the heat of them.

"Tell me," he said simply, a command. She swallowed, and gave him a look of her own. His clothes were also tattered, though they held together better than hers, and were of an old cut. His vivid hair spilled from a high tail, the bangs drifting in front of his richly yellow eyes. He looked like a something from a legend, something magical.

She found herself opening her mouth without having made a conscious decision. "It started a few years ago," she said quietly. "We didn't notice it at first. It was just… accidents, and a bad growing season, and superstitions coming to light because that's what happens when people are hungry and afraid. By the time we realized they were attacks…"

She shivered with the attempt to keep her tears at bay, and bowed her head to hide her face from him.

"He started with blights, and floods, and droughts. The land to the north died, and towns were abandoned as the people fled, starving, to the south. Then lords started falling ill, with no warning, and no doctor could cure them. Messengers…" she swallowed thickly. "Messengers started dying. Rockslides, wild animals… bandits. Rumors started coming to the ear of the King that there were creatures preying on the people, attacking them as they traveled through forests, even some that came into towns and killed people at night, on the streets.

"The north has fallen. Kyoto and Tokyo still hold, but… he's so powerful," she said, lifting tear-blurred eyes to the swordsman. His eyes were fairly burning in a face gone pale. Before she knew it, his hands were around her biceps, implacable iron strength.

"Who?" he demanded. "Who is 'he'?"

She was startled by the sudden intensity, thoughts scattered. When all she did was stare at him in surprised silence, he gave her a shake. "Tell me who!"

"S-shishio!" she stammered. "He calls himself Shishio!"

And just as suddenly as he'd grabbed her, he released her, backing away a step. His face had gone still, blank.

"Impossible," he said flatly. "That's impossible. He is dead."

Kaoru took a careful step back, putting a little more distance between them. "What do you mean? How can you know—"

"He was the one who bound me," Kenshin said. "He is the Necromancer."

"What?" she said, voice thin. She put a hand to her spinning head. "I don't understand what's going on."

"I told you the tale of this field," Kenshin said. She nodded distractedly. "The signs you spoke of: the crops dying, people falling ill, tales of monsters roaming… they are the same signs Katsura-sama saw, over three hundred years ago, when Shishio first came into power."

"Three hundred years? Katsura-sama?" Kaoru repeated faintly. There were tales about that reign; Katsura was known as the Swordless King, because they said he never drew his sword once during his reign. They said he never had to, because he had a vassal whose skills with a blade were unsurpassed, who protected the King so well that no threat ever drew close enough for the King to need a sword himself. At least, until that swordsman had disappeared.

Kaoru felt like she couldn't breathe. She stared at the red-haired, amber-eyed legend before her. "You're… you're… Battousai…"

He gazed back at her steadily. Kaoru felt a hysterical giggle claw its way up her throat, and bit her tongue against it. Her head was spinning and her eyes were blurring and she felt all her exhaustion, hunger, and travel aches come rushing to the forefront of her mind.

"Oh," she said softly, and crumpled prettily to the side like a wilting flower. She was unaware of the jolt as her head hit the ground; couldn't feel the touch of dirt against her cheek.

* * *

Kaoru opened her eyes groggily, her whole body throbbing with pain in time with her pulse. Her limbs felt like lead, her joints so stiff she thought they might snap if she tried to move. Through the haze, she noticed that she had been moved to the edge of the field, and was lying beneath the outstretched canopy of a tree.

She turned her head and groaned, lifting her hands to drag her palms over her face.

"You are awake," said a quiet male voice. Kaoru twitched and looked over to her left to see Kenshin looking down at her. He'd found a sheath somewhere and was now wearing his sword thrust through the ties of his _hakama_.

"So it was real," she whispered to herself. She turned her head back and closed her eyes.

"You have slept for most of the day," Kenshin said. "Are you hungry?"

"What?" Kaoru jerked upright, eyes flying open and seeking out the sun. She cried out when she saw that it was, indeed, almost setting. "No! No, they'll catch up!"

She struggled up, stumbling as she went light-headed. Kenshin caught her with a hand at her elbow. She clutched at his shoulder. "Why did you let me sleep so long? They're going to catch me, and then—"

"They have already caught up," Kenshin told her calmly. His eyes were a darker gold than before, the color seeming almost in motion, whirling slowly. Not for the first time, Kaoru wondered if he wasn't human but some magic creature. Perhaps it was some leftover magic from the geas that made him seem so… intense.

She swallowed. "What do you mean they've already caught up?"

"There were three of them. Shadows; lesser _obake _and easily dispersed," he said. And Kaoru was reminded by his dismissive tone that this was the Battousai. She dragged in a breath.

"You killed them?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"They are not living," he told her. "They are made of malice and Power, and what you think of as killing them is merely unraveling the spells that made them."

"But they're not coming back?" she persisted. Her ears were full of the memories of howls, a sound like a hunt on-scent, the whirr of arrows and the screams of horses and human cries of pain. She had to swallow repeatedly against the lump that rose in her throat as she remembered.

_"Kaoru, run!"_

"They will not," Kenshin's level voice brought her back to the present. He was watching her closely, expressionless. Kaoru felt a jolt of dark satisfaction.

"Good," she said, suddenly fierce. It was not true vengeance, but for now it was enough. "Good."

There was a silence, and Kaoru realized that Kenshin's hand was still on her elbow. As if he'd just realized it, himself, he let go of her abruptly and turned. "I found some food while you were sleeping. There are two apples and a skewer of quail meat beside you. Eat. Then we leave."

Kaoru didn't have to be asked twice; at the mere mention of food, her stomach woke and her mouth watered. She looked down for the promised food, and found it immediately. She also found her _haori_, which, last she had known, she had been wearing. It was crumpled and discarded as if… Her surprised gaze went to Kenshin, he was standing some distance away, his back to her. It looked like it had been draped over her as she slept.

She blinked and picked it up, rubbing her thumb across one of the Kings Crests embroidered on the breast of the garment. Her eyes moved from the _haori _to the food, and back to Kenshin.

He didn't seem to acknowledge her gaze, and finally she looked back at the food. Slipping the _haori _back on, she sat and picked up the skewer of meat from where it had been stuck in the earth. Her mouth nearly hurt with the anticipation of a bite. Kenshin must have cooked it a while ago, because the quail had lost all the heat of its cooking. But it still tasted like the best meal Kaoru had ever had, and she licked the grease from her fingers and stripped every scrap off of the skewer. She ate one of the apples, core and all, in seven bites. When she was done, picked up the remaining apple and stood.

"Where is the closest town to here?" Kenshin asked before she reached him, before she said anything.

"Mm," she said through a mouthful of apple. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "There's a little hamlet that way about ten _ri_."

"Does it have a swordsmith?" Kenshin asked, turning. Kaoru tilted her head thoughtfully. She glanced at the sword at his hip. The hilt was lashed together with what looked to be a strip of cloth torn from the bottom of his _hakama_, an attempt to lend a little more stability to the decrepit wood, silk, and rayskin. There were thin splints of wood running along the length of the hilt, along where the pins would be. The bumps the splints made on the hilt would probably foul his grip somewhat, but she guessed that they were helping keep the pins that held the hilt together in place. Ugly, but necessary.

"I believe so," she told him.

"We will go there first," he said definitively. Then his confidence seemed to waver a little. "And then…the capital and your King."

"Yes," Kaoru agreed. "He probably assumes I am dead. I need to report in."

Kenshin nodded once. Then he asked: "The capital is still Kyoto?"

There was an odd tone to his voice that Kaoru couldn't quite put her finger on, it was so faint. He seemed to hide his emotions behind a cool, calm façade. She could only catch little hints of what he might be feeling. Right now she thought that maybe he was uncertain, a little lost. He had been bound by that geas for centuries. She couldn't imagine how out-of-place he must feel. To not even know if the King's seat was in the same city as he remembered. To not know the King, or the one before him, or the one before him…

"No," she said. "Um. The King after Katsura-sama moved the capital to Edo, and renamed it Tokyo. That is the current seat of the kingdom."

He said nothing, but she noticed he turned away and let his bangs shade his eyes. She hesitated. Should she…?

"Eat," he said, and his voice was as even as ever. "Then we'll leave."

"I can eat as we walk," she offered uncertainly.

"You won't be walking," he said.

"Eh?"

"A few hours' sleep and half a meal isn't enough to replenish your strength," he said. "I will carry you."

"_What_?"


	3. A Bared Blade

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks for reading. Please leave a review!

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_ "What is your name, boy?"_

_ "Shinta."_

_ "Shinta, huh? You'll need a stronger name if you're going to be my apprentice. From now on, you'll be called Kenshin. Understand?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "And you will refer to me as 'Shishou'. Do you understand, Kenshin?"_

_ "Yes… Shishou…"_

_ "Did you have something you wanted to say to me, Kenshin?"_

_ "Will I… Will I get to see my family? Shishou?"_

_ "It isn't wise. I won't forbid you to write, and if you want to visit you can ask me to bring you back, but I warn you that it would be better if the goodbyes you said today were the final ones."_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Kaoru slowly got used to riding on Kenshin's back, though it took hours for the blush of embarrassment and anger to fade from her face. He walked through the night, never setting a foot wrong despite the shifting shadows of moonlight and tree roots, and the awkward weight of her braced against his back. His strength didn't seem diminished in the slightest even as the sun rose and traced its arc halfway through the sky.

They didn't stop for food; Kenshin handed Kaoru apples from an apparently endless stash in his sleeves, and bid her eat as they went. When she asked if he wasn't hungry also, he shook his head.

"I am not," he said. "I have not eaten in all the years I was bound, and my body is still remembering what it is to live. If I ate now, I would be sick."

"If you're sure," Kaoru said, only half believing him.

"Eat," was his only response. So she ate, and kept quiet. The journey was tense, neither comfortable in the other's presence, though Kenshin seemed better at pretending otherwise. Kaoru stayed awkwardly stiff, arms around his neck, the muscles of her legs where he held her up tense under his touch.

Finally, a bit after midday, he stopped and let her slide down. She stretched a little as soon as her feet hit the ground. "Are we stopping for a rest or…?"

"The town is just over the next ridge," Kenshin replied. "I will scout it out. Stay here."

Kaoru opened her mouth to protest, but he was already gone. She scowled, displeased with his high-handedness. Did he think she was incompetent? A fool? Unable to care for herself?

…Was he just… concerned?

_'Idiot. Why would he be? He barely knows you. He's just been fulfilling his life-debt.' _Kaoru leaned against a tree and stared up into the sun-dappled leaves. _'I don't know what to think of him. He's… the Battousai. A legend that people still speak of in hushed tones.'_

She shook her head at herself. _'He fought for the King. And he's protecting me now. I shouldn't fear him…' _She looked at her hands, remembering the hot slickness of blood on them. She'd never killed someone before… and she _knew_ that it would have been a killing blow, if magic hadn't been involved. He had thrown himself onto the katana such that the blade had pierced his heart… or at least, where his heart would have been, had it not been bound to that same sword. She supposed that was why he'd done it; the katana was his heart and to break the geas he needed to reclaim it. Running himself through didn't kill him, it saved him.

Still. The wash of blood over her fingers had been…

She shivered, clenching her hands and tucking them out of sight in her voluminous sleeves.

It reminded her too much of…

_'Stop. Stop it,' _she begged herself. _'Don't.'_

… Reminded her of Tomoe's blood on her hands, hurried frantic touches on wounds too numerous, too deep… whispered words, a plea…

Kaoru doubled over, breath harsh as she tried to fight the memory.

She hadn't been able to wash the blood from her hands, as Shishio's creatures had chased her from her sister's body, and it had dried on her skin and under her nails. Most of it had rubbed off by the second day of her flight, and the remnants had swirled away with the water when she'd crossed that river in an attempt to throw off her pursuers. By the time she'd reached Kenshin's hillock, all that had remained were thin rust-red lines in the grooves around her nails and the memories.

She was glad that the impossibility of Kenshin's existence and identity had distracted her so thoroughly, allowing her mind something to latch onto other than the new wash of blood—his blood this time—on her hands. She didn't think she would have been able to keep it together if she hadn't had that to hide behind.

She was also inexpressibly grateful that Kenshin had apparently washed the blood off of her after she'd fainted; when she'd woken, there had been not a single speck of red on her fingers, palms, or wrists. She could pretend that she hadn't been so covered that it had looked like she'd been wearing gloves. She could pretend that she didn't know what the heat of someone else's blood felt like on her skin.

At least, she could pretend until the memory of Tomoe's death crept back up on her.

_'Nee-san,' _she thought, gritting her teeth against the sobs building up in her chest. A few tears escaped her closed eyes.

"What is it? What's happened?" Kenshin's voice cut across her uneven breaths, and her eyes snapped open. The redhead was standing in front of her, his sword half-drawn, eyes scanning their surroundings sharply. When he didn't see anything that could have caused her to be bowed over hugging herself in distress, his gaze returned to her face. She hurriedly wiped away the tears.

"It's nothing," she said thickly. His eyes darted over her face, and she felt shame begin to burn across her cheeks. But he said nothing about the tear tracks or red-rimmed eyes. The sword slowly returned to its sheath and his muscles slowly relaxed. He stared at her perhaps a little blankly, and she stared back, awkward and unsure.

"The village contains a smithy," he said finally. "And I could not detect any of Shishio's minions in the area. It should be safe enough."

"Oh," Kaoru said a little lamely. "Okay."

His eyes swept her again. "I noticed before that you have no sword. Are you entirely unarmed?"

"I lost my sword when… when Shishio and his… when I was attacked," she admitted haltingly. "Usually, I do have a weapon."

He gave a brisk nod. "We will visit the smithy, then, and try to secure you a replacement, as well as getting my katana fixed." He paused, then asked: "You do have money for this?"

Kaoru hesitated, then turned her back to him and fished in her breast bindings for the ryou she'd carefully tucked there. Turning back around, she held the coins out as evidence.

"Good," Kenshin said. "Then follow me."

Kaoru felt her heart flutter with uncertainty, but she tucked the ryou into her sleeve and walked after him as he led her down a thin deer trail and onto a packed dirt road, which presumably ran into the town. He was perfectly silent as they walked, not even his worn sandals making noise against the rough road. Kaoru felt her anxiety increase as they drew nearer to the town. Kenshin said there weren't any of Shishio's minions in the small village, but Kaoru couldn't help but be nervous.

With Shishio's army making war upon the King's forces, there were few soldiers to spare for tracking down and bringing bandits and ronin to justice. Unfortunately, there was also an increase in the number of bandits and ronin because of the number of village that had been destroyed or taken by Shishio. This particular village had not been crushed by the advancing front of Shishio's malevolent magicks, but it had been broken by the blights and an influx of petty criminals.

It wasn't a place Kaoru would have considered passing through, let alone stopping in. She felt her skin crawl as they walked down the main street. She had regained at least some of her strength and was able to walk into the town under her own power, a fact for which she was intensely thankful. It made her feel a little less like a hare under a hunter's knife.

_'Although, in all fairness, I don't think Kenshin would have allowed me to come into town with him if I still couldn't walk,'_ Kaoru thought, glancing over at the swordsman. He didn't seem uneasy. In fact, he seemed perfectly comfortable with their location. _ 'Of course; he's the one with the katana.'_

Kaoru was jolted from her cynical thoughts by Kenshin's calm announcement: "There's the swordsmith's shop."

Kaoru looked. It was a small building, but undeniably a smith's workshop. Kenshin went up to it, Kaoru trailing.

"Can I help you with something?" questioned the old man seated beneath the awning of the shop; he sat behind an anvil and held a hilt-less blade in a rag-wrapped hand. He took in their tattered appearance with suspicion in his eyes. "If you're here to cause trouble, you'd best leave now."

Kaoru stiffened at the man's rudeness, but Kenshin held up his empty hands. "We're not looking for trouble, Master Smith. I want a new hilt for my sword, and my companion needs a weapon."

The old man eyed them a moment longer before nodding and setting the blade in his hand aside. "Let me see your katana."

Kenshin slid the weapon in its sheath out of his _hakama_ ties, and handed it over. The smith snorted at the bandages and wood splints keeping the hilt together, stripping them and looking at the original rayskin, wood, and silk, before unsheathing the blade about two inches to assess the quality of the metal. His eyebrows rose and he looked up at Kenshin, who didn't respond to the question in the man's gaze.

"Can you fix it in a day?" Kenshin asked. The smith slid the blade back into the sheath.

"Less than," he replied. "You want it done just like the old hilt?"

Kenshin nodded. The smith grunted, and his attention shifted to Kaoru. She fidgeted a little under his gaze, which she thought to be disconcertingly sharp. Despite the rest of the town being run-down and home to bandits, this swordsmith seemed to have a clear, clean _ki_. She wondered how he had so far avoided being made a victim of his criminal neighbors, or corrupted by their influence.

"Well," he said gruffly. "Come here and give me your hands."

She did so, laying her hands palm up in his. He pored over her hands, curling her digits in to fists, massaging the tendons, lightly trailing his fingers over the skin of her palms. "I see," he said finally, "You lookin' for a katana?"

She expected that he knew the answer, having seen it in the grip of her hands and the pattern of callouses on her palms, but she answered anyway: "Yes. But do you have anything that you haven't sharpened yet?"

"A blunt blade?" He crossed his arms over his chest. She nodded, and felt that the weight of his scrutiny demanded further explanation.

"My sword style is the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_," she said quietly, but proudly. Even if it resulted in the smith mocking her and dismissing her, she wouldn't sacrifice her values by staying silent and accepting a sharpened sword. "It is a style that condemns needless bloodshed and endeavors to protect without killing. I only use blunt blades, or simple wooden staves or bokken."

"Hmmm," was the smith's reply, but when he looked away from her he had an expression almost like satisfaction. He stood from his anvil and motioned her forward. "Come with me."

He brought her to a back room where a number of swords, knives, spears, and glaives were displayed on racks on the walls. He went straight to a specific sword and took it down as Kenshin ghosted into the room behind Kaoru.

"This is a blade that I made a long time ago, for a young lord," the smith's mouth quirked up in an ironic smile, "He didn't survive to see it completed, so I never sharpened it. Sword-lore says that for a blade to truly awaken it needs to taste its master's blood before it's given an edge. It is that blood which binds the blade to the warrior who wields it. Without that awakening and binding, the blade will not obey its master, and will cut indiscriminately.

"And now you come to me asking for a blunt blade, and I have this, as if it were waiting for you." He held out the katana, and Kaoru took it carefully. She drew it, marveling at the feel of it in her hand. The smith spoke true; it felt right in her grip, a good length and a good weight. She turned it over in her hand and swept her eyes up the blade.

"It is a good fit to me," Kaoru said. "It sits right in my hand."

"It was one of my finer creations," the smith said absently, eyes on the sword in her hand. "It is almost a pity it won't ever carry an edge."

"Then I cannot take it. A sword made such as this one deserves to fulfill its purpose," Kaoru said, a little reluctantly, because the sword felt so perfect in her grasp. Still, she knew the small magicks of swords. The katana would have soaked up the ideas and intentions of the smith while it was being forged; if the smith had created it for a lord to carry as an edged-weapon, it would become bitter at being denied that, and would turn on her. But the smith was shaking his head.

"No, this sword took on its own purpose, I think, as I forged it. I wondered, afterward, if I would have given it to the lord, or if I would have forged another… But no matter. It seems to want to go to you."

Kaoru hesitated a moment, before sheathing the sword and bowing. "Thank you."

He returned the gesture, and looked between her and Kenshin. "The hilt of your katana should be finished by sundown, swordsman-san. Would you like to wait here, or will you return later?"

"We will return at sundown," said Kenshin, and Kaoru blinked at him. Where did he intend they go in the interim? She had a sinking feeling that she knew, but as much as she wanted to argue the idea, she didn't want to do so in front of the smith, a stranger for all intents and purposes.

With her gut twisting, she and the smith negotiated a price and she handed over the money. Then Kenshin started walking down the road with an air like he just expected her to follow. She didn't have much choice but to do so, but as soon as they were out of ear-shot of the smith, she whispered: "This is not a good idea. This town is full of criminals and I'm…"

"No harm will come to you," Kenshin said. "But you need food, more than what I can scavenge from the forest. We will find some place to get a meal; then we will return to the smithy."

Kaoru closed her mouth, hearing the finality in his tone, but her brow stayed furrowed with worry. Her clothes might be tattered, but they were still a uniform; she was still recognizable as a Messenger, if anyone looked close enough. She worried what a town full of bandits might do to an emissary of the King, whose laws they were breaking. She stuck close to Kenshin, and her hand rode on the hilt of her new sword. She was acutely aware of the King's Crest embroidered at the breast of her clothes and the coins weighing down her sleeve.

They got to the town's center without conflict, and found a small… well, to call it a restaurant would be overly generous. But it did advertise food and drink, so they ducked under the threadbare _noren _and picked a seat. Kaoru noticed that both she and Kenshin automatically went straight to a spot where they could see all the entrances and had room around them to maneuver if they needed to fight.

There were a few others in the 'restaurant' besides them; rough-looking men who had more _sake _than food in front of them. Kaoru felt her back itch under their appraising glances. Kenshin seemed unaffected.

A woman with a thin, pinched face came to wait on them. To Kaoru's surprise, Kenshin ordered rice for himself as well as for her. Apparently, he was beginning to come back into being human. Though, judging from the fact that he took all of four bites of it before pushing the rest of the bowl toward her, it was only a little step in that direction.

The grains of the rice were small and a little hard, but Kaoru didn't think it was the manner of its preparation that was to blame. This stunted rice was probably the only thing that would grow here, now. But she didn't care that the rice was of poor quality, or that the small grilled fish that had come with hers was flavorless; even the slight stomachache she had from nerves wasn't enough to keep her from finishing the meal. Kaoru's body was starving for the food, her appetite whetted by the small bits that Kenshin had given her during their journey. She ate her rice and Kenshin's leftovers, and picked the fish's bones clean, all this slowly, because she knew that in her condition to eat too much too quickly would make her ill.

As she ate she divided her attention between Kenshin and the few men who seemed to have taken a little too much interest in them. The men were easy to read; they smirked and postured and drank like the common thugs Kaoru had seen in a dozen other places—they thrived on attention, particularly fear. If she acted scared of them, they would circle like sharks. At the same time, if she ignored them, they would become increasingly belligerent until she took notice of them. She carefully weighed out the looks she sent their way, hoping to fall somewhere in the middle. When they didn't move to interrupt her meal, she shifted a little more attention to Kenshin.

He was harder to read. He'd ordered _sake _with their food, but he had yet to even pick up the _ochoko _in front of him. Instead he stared at it as if locked in a battle of wills. The color of his eyes was bright burnished gold; Kaoru wondered what that particular shade meant. She'd noticed that his eye-color was rather volatile, changing with his moods.

She finished her last bite and set her chopsticks down. A few more men came in, shouting for _sake _to be brought to them, and the group that had been watching Kaoru and Kenshin were getting rowdier. It was probably best if they didn't stick around much longer.

"Kenshin," Kaoru said, keeping her voice low to avoid attracting more attention. "We need to leave."

He didn't answer her, but as if her voice was a signal, he finally reached forward for his _sake_. Like a man taking medicine, or perhaps poison, he lifted it to his lips and tipped it back. Kaoru watched, mute, as some unidentifiable emotion passed through his eyes, leaving them a muddy amber-brown. The careful precision with which he set down the _ochoko _made her think he was suppressing a shudder.

"Still…" he murmured, nearly inaudible. Kaoru had to strain to hear it. She startled as he stood suddenly. He started for the door without saying anything to her, and she jerked herself out of her seat after him. Thankfully, they'd paid already, because Kenshin seemed disinclined to wait for her.

Her stomach lurched as she noticed the rowdy group by the door watching their exit. _'Oh no…'_

"Kenshin," she hissed as she caught up to him. She reached for his arm, but was intercepted before she touched even the trailing end of his sleeve.

A large, strong hand grabbed a handful of her _haori _and _nagagi_, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. She gasped and reached for her katana in reflex, but the fabric bunched and pulled strangely and she couldn't get a good enough grip on the hilt to draw it. Her temper immediately flared, and she kicked out. "Let me go!"

The man holding her was massive, with wild hair. He sneered at her, and gave her a shake that snapped her head forward and back when her flailing foot caught him on the forearm. "None of that, King's whore."

Her eyes flew wide. They'd noticed the King Crest sewn onto her clothes! She was about to twist her head down to sink her teeth into her assaulter's hand when Kenshin's voice drifted through the cool air.

"If you wish to live, release her," he said. The large man, and a few other voices belonging to men Kaoru couldn't see from her vantage point hanging by her collar from the giant's fist, laughed.

"You, little man? You don't even have a weapon," someone said snidely. Kaoru's breath quickened, because she knew what they did not.

They were baiting the Battousai.

"I give you one last chance to live," Kenshin said, voice even, the coldness in it implacable. "Release her and walk away."

Oh gods, they wouldn't back down. Not thugs like these; they would take Kenshin's confidence as a challenge. And he would slaughter them.

Kaoru writhed, got a hand on her sword hilt, and slapped it. Hard. The sheath smacked into the giant's face, and he dropped her with a howl. She tried to control her landing, but still nearly fell on her rear. She had to scramble ungracefully to keep her feet under her.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Kenshin moved. When she was certain she wasn't going to fall over or trip over herself, Kaoru watched in awe and alarm as he flickered like a lightning bolt through the five men. It hadn't said in the legends that the Battousai was lethal even without a blade in his hands. Within seconds, two of the bandits were down, one clutching a broken arm, the other a broken nose that bled profusely.

One of the bandits had a _joto _and he unsheathed it and dashed at Kenshin with a cry. The redhead ducked to the side, allowing the blade to pass harmlessly through the air beside him, and caught the hand holding the _joto_. Turning, he stepped inside the swing, right up next to the bandit. Kenshin's whole body twisted, and the bandit gave a yelp as he went flying. He left his _joto _behind in Kenshin's grasp.

_'Shit!' _Kaoru drew her sword, but hesitated. Her sword was meant to protect people; even if they were criminals, those men deserved justice, not simply death. If she stood by and watched Kenshin kill them, she wouldn't be able to live with herself. But how was she supposed to stop him, the Battousai?

The man who'd pulled the _joto _was struggling up, cursing, and Kaoru sent him right back down with a decisive chop of her dull sword. She advanced carefully, watching Kenshin as he leveled the sword in his hands into a ready stance. The remaining four men were looking between her and Kenshin, clearly rethinking their actions. Kaoru kept her eyes trained on Kenshin, but told the bandits: "Get out of here. Run. Go!"

Staggering, limping, cradling wounds, they did. Kenshin took a step after them, but Kaoru anticipated that and stepped between them, raising her sword into a guard position. She caught sight of his eyes and her blood nearly froze in her veins.

Palest gold glinted from the narrowed slits of his eyes, a furious, merciless glare. "Kenshin. Stop," Kaoru said softly, her voice nearly lost in the distance between them. Her sword was steady, even as her heart thundered. "They're running away. It's over. Stop."

"You are in my way," he said, and his voice was cold and flat. She realized with some surprise that he sounded once more like the spirit he had been, heartless and geas-bound. She hadn't noticed until now, until it was gone, that after she'd released him there had been some small measure of emotion in his voice. "Move."

She licked her lips and said: "No."

_'He's fast!' _She barely blocked his first slash, and had no time to recover before she had to whip her sword around to block the second. She wouldn't be able to keep up.

"Kenshin! Please!" she cried between clashes of metal-on-metal. She caught a downward slash on her blade.

"Ken…shin…" she tried again, through teeth gritted against the strain as he bore down on her sword with his. They were close enough she could see the strange shimmer of the gold of his eyes, and their breaths mingled. She gasped, once, feeling her muscles tiring, and the sharp edge of the _joto _sank closer to the skin of her shoulder.

Then, suddenly, Kenshin's mask-like face wavered, and she swore she saw his eyes flicker gold-blue-gold. And then he hurled himself backwards, staggering a few paces before dropping the _joto _and falling to his knees.

His breathing was harsh pants, and he was trembling, and he lifted wide, frightened eyes to her face.

They were rich, royal purple.

"Kaoru…dono?"


	4. The Twisted Man

**Author's Note:** I think I'm the only person I know who could catch a cold in the middle of August. Also, I am never (frikkin' NEVER) taking NyQuil again. Ugh.

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_ Kenshin obeyed Shishou without complaint, even though his hands blistered and bled from the sword-work and his soul blistered and bled from the magic. It was not easy, to act as the balance in the world, his Shishou said, and it was true. The magic was new and harsh and rubbed him raw as it blazed through him._

_ His Shishou was just as harsh, though he was also fair and did not deny Kenshin food, or water, or rest when he needed them. He was hard, but life was hard. Kenshin was healthier here than he had been before, well-fed and growing strong with blade and magic._

_ He did not regret coming, though he did miss Mother's embrace, Father's silent patience, and Brother's games. He had brought the top Father had made for him, but it wasn't the same._

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Kaoru gaped at him. The mask was gone from his face, and the purity of the expression that had replaced it was startling. Kenshin's eyes flickered, and he looked away from her.

A moan from the man Kaoru had knocked out jolted her from her shock and she returned her sword to its sheath. She hated how her hands were shaking—her sword clattered against the sheath tellingly—and how she flinched when Kenshin reached out to her. He noticed, and the proffered hand hesitated, then fell.

"We can't stand here," he said, taking the lead as he always had, but this time was different. From his strained tone and how his hands curled into fists at his sides, he knew it, too.

"The forest," he said, an order. And Kaoru was willing to obey, as long as he didn't try to steady her again.

They fled the streets, circling the town under the cover of the surrounding trees and scrub, until they reached the swordsmith's shop. Kaoru stumbled obstinately after Kenshin, her limbs rubbery with fading adrenaline. He must have caught her mood, because he didn't reach for her arm again, instead leading the way through the trees in silence.

The smith looked up when Kenshin thrust open his door, then stood when he saw Kaoru, pale faced, behind him. "Did you two run into some trouble?"

"We cannot stay here any longer," Kenshin said. "We were attacked in the town; they might try to find us again."

"Right," the smith said, eyes moving between the two of them. "Your sword is finished, in any case."

They had paid before, so Kenshin merely accepted the sword, ran a practiced eye over the new hilt, and bowed to the smith. "You do fine work."

"It is only a simple hilt," the smith demurred, and, propriety disposed of, Kenshin thrust the sword into his _hakama _ties, where the clean lines and color of the new hilt contrasted sharply with the worn grunginess of the sheath and his clothes. He bowed again to the smith.

"Forgiveness, but I hope we have not led them to your door," he said. The smith snorted and waved a hand.

"They don't dare make trouble with me," he said. "But you should go, before they think to trap you here."

Kenshin bowed, and Kaoru bowed with him. "Thank you."

They left through the forest, in case the men they'd routed tried to intercept them on the road leading out of the town. They saw no one, and made their escape in silence.

* * *

Kenshin was different since the town. For one thing, he avoided eye contact assiduously, though Kaoru was quick enough that she was aware his irises had changed color again, to a soft blue rimmed and flecked with gold. For another, he treated her like a China doll, something fragile and requiring soft words and a softer touch.

It made her want to punch him in the face. As much as his terse brusqueness before had irritated her, she looked back on it with fondness now. She was an Assistant Master of the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_, and a King's Messenger. She did not need to be coddled.

She held her head high and marched forward, sheer force of will allowing her to maintain a chill silence. She did not let him see when her energy flagged or her feet ached. The small wounds she'd received from Shishio's attack itched and ached, but she set her chin in determination and never flinched. She had walked for three days with little rest and less food, pursued by Shishio's _obake_, and hadn't given up. This was nothing. This only required judicious application of the stubbornness that had always made her sister shake her head and sigh.

With frustration coloring her cheeks and annoyance carrying her emotions high, the thought of her sister didn't put a vice around her heart for once. She only felt briefly breathless, grief echoing through her like a strummed chord.

In front of her, Kenshin froze suddenly, and Kaoru followed en suite. They were walking on the main road that led to Tokyo, and they never knew who or what their fellow travelers could be. What they did know was that Shishio would be looking for the one Messenger who'd escaped him. So, every time they heard someone coming along the road, they hid in the trees lining it. So far all they'd seen were a couple farmers and what looked like a wandering monk.

And _they_ hadn't made the forest go quiet like whatever was coming did now.

"Hide," Kenshin said, and she didn't hesitate. She ducked around the first few trees and then pressed her back against the leeward side of a large oak. Kenshin joined her, nudging her closer to the tree's bark and edging himself between her and the direction the now-audible hoof-beats were coming from. She couldn't see, but she assumed that his hand was on the hilt of his sword.

She scowled at his over-protectiveness, but kept silent. The horse and rider were coming around the bend in the road and if she made a noise, it could be heard and they could be found.

When Kaoru saw the rider, her mouth opened in horror. Kenshin slid his hand over it, to muffle any sound she might have made. She barely noticed.

The man was only a twisted mockery of life; shadows clung to him even in the warmth and light of midday. It hurt Kaoru's eyes to look directly at him; the most she could manage were quick, darting glances at him and then away, at him and then away again. Her brow furrowed against the pain as she tried to make out his form.

He seemed only vaguely man-shaped; his limbs were too thin, spindly… like a spider. His hands, sticking out from the tattered ends of his sleeves, were pale and covered in angry red sores; his fingers were shaped more like claws than anything else. The hood of his cloak was pulled over his head, but Kaoru had a nasty feeling that the face beneath it would be pulled from nightmares, like the rest of him. Kaoru couldn't look at him any longer, and her eyes slid from the shadowy, wavering form to the horse beneath it.

It wasn't any better. The creature looked as if it had been pulled from the back of a knacker's cart—the bones of its ribs poked out from its sides and its hide was dirty and matted and almost seemed to sag over the underlying bones and muscle. It was covered with sores and lash marks as well, and its hooves had been sloppily shod; the rusted points of the nails jutted from the top of the hooves in a couple places. Its eyes shone milky white and it plodded onward with a mindless, uncaring gait.

The wind carried the scent of the twisted creatures to her nose—the cloying stench of sickness and death. She shuddered against Kenshin's body as he pressed her closer against the tree.

It seemed to take forever for the thing to pass out of sight, and even longer for the sound of hooves striking the road to fade. Finally, it did, and birdsong started to filter through the air again. Kenshin shifted away from her, removing his hand from her face.

"What _was_ that?" Kaoru whispered, shaken by how utterly _wrong _the horse and its rider had felt.

"Puppets of the Necromancer," Kenshin replied quietly. "Dead things brought back to life, and shadows and evil given form. It was probably something of a scout."

Kaoru said: "It came from the direction of Tokyo."

By unspoken agreement, their pace increased.

* * *

Kaoru stared at the city, her heart sinking. Tokyo had once been a sprawling collection of homes and businesses, with the elegant White Cloud Castle rising above them on its fortified hill. Now half of it smoldered, smoke rising from ruins, and the pure white walls of the castle were stained with what Kaoru had a terrible suspicion were blood and ash, though they weren't close enough to see for certain.

She was frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight even as her stomach roiled. The capital…

"Kaoru-dono," said Kenshin after a moment of hushed observation. "Where else would the King be?"

"What?" she said, uncomprehending. Kenshin stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him.

"The King is not here," he said. "Where else could he be?"

"How do you know he's not already dead?" Kaoru asked dully.

"If he were dead, you would know," Kenshin said. There was no doubt in his voice. "If he were dead, his head would be on display. His death would knock the last support out from under the people. If he were dead, nobody would resist the shadows anymore. We would _know_ if the King were dead."

Her vision filled with the blue of Kenshin's steady gaze, Kaoru couldn't help but believe him. And when her mind re-engaged, overcoming the numb despair that had gripped her, she realized the truth of what he was saying.

She remembered what Shishio had done with the bodies of the Messengers he'd killed—_their bodies ravaged as if by wild animals; their faces untouched but for the King's Crest mockingly cut into their foreheads. Eyes blindly staring, hands cut off, their swords used to prop them up like macabre scarecrows by the side of the road_—and felt the truth in what Kenshin had said. If Shishio had killed the King, his head would be on display. His corpse would be used to send a message to the people: The King is dead, abandon all hope.

He must still be alive. She had to believe that. She _would_, until his corpse was before her, proving otherwise.

"Where would the King go, if the capital fell?" Kenshin asked her again.

"Kyoto," she answered. "He would go to Kyoto."

Kenshin stepped away. "Then we head south." He turned away and started heading toward the road to Kyoto. Kaoru cast one last lingering glance back at the ruins of Tokyo before following.


	5. Before the King

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews, follows, favs. Your continued support is very much appreciated!

On the names of the castles... Most castles in Japan are named for where they are. 'Osaka-jou', 'Chiyoda-jou; (AKA Edo-jou), etc. But I find that boring. So in the tradition of Himeji-jou, which is also frequently called 'Shirasagi-jou' (White Heron Castle), I have given the castles in this story more "poetical" names.

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_Shishou taught Kenshin to read and write, and under his militant tutelage, Kenshin was quickly able to write his family letters. They were simple, only a few halting sentences telling them of his health and little details of his new life, and Shishou lamented over the state of his brushwork… but they were the last tie he had to his family. When he brought the first one to Shishou to have the man send it, Shishou looked at him for a long time without moving._

_ "Is this what you really want?" he asked._

_ "Yes, Shishou," Kenshin answered right away. Shishou grunted and took the letter, and a couple of weeks later, a reply came. None of his family could read or write, so they had taken his letter to the village's priest to have it read to them. The reply came in the priest's hand, dictated by his mother. Kenshin read her words through several times before folding the letter and placing it safely in the small box Shishou had given to him for storing his belongings._

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Kaoru stared into their campfire, slowly feeding it small twigs. Kenshin had left her to get the fire started as he went to see what could be found for food. It had taken only a few minutes to gather the wood, and a few more to get the kindling to catch. Once she had built up the flame, she would add a few of the larger pieces of wood she'd stacked by her side.

For now, she nursed it carefully, providing just enough fuel for it to grow but not too much that the small licks of fire on the kindling would be smothered. It was second-nature, fire-building, so she let her mind wander as she knelt there.

She truly had no idea what she had gotten herself into, releasing Kenshin from his geas. She'd thought she'd known, after he had introduced himself—he was the Battousai, who by all reports was a fearsome warrior, but for all that, was also very loyal to his King. What did she, a King's Messenger, have to fear from him?

She knew, now, that he was dangerous. Even to her. Quite possibly to her King. What was she doing, leading him to the Court? Even if he hadn't meant to attack her, as she suspected from his ashamed, horrified reaction, the fact remained that he _had _attacked her. Which meant he was not in full control of himself. Dangerous.

Kaoru stirred the fire, and a twig crackled and snapped with sap, throwing bright sparks.

And yet, she still traveled with him. She could, if she truly wanted to be rid of him, just walk away now. From the way he'd been acting, he wouldn't blame her; he would simply think that she was protecting herself by getting away from him. He would let her go.

But then what? Where would _he _go? Kaoru felt some obligation to him; she had, after all, released him, and into a world three hundred years older than the one he had known. He would have nowhere to go, nobody to turn to. If Kaoru had to guess, she would say that Kenshin would simply throw himself at Shishio. The Necromancer was Kenshin's enemy, and even if it was hundreds of years old, the redhead seemed perfectly willing to continue the fight. Alone.

No. She couldn't abandon him. It wouldn't be honorable. And she…And she didn't really _want _to, anyway. For all that she knew he was dangerous, she still wanted the surety of having a companion, a fellow warrior. When he was there, she could sleep. She could start to hope that she'd get to her King alive.

A twig snapped, and she jerked upright, tense. She picked out the red of Kenshin's hair through the trees almost immediately, and relaxed. Strange that he would be so careless as to… Ah. He stepped on the twig on purpose. Probably to let her know he was coming. She frowned a little, crouching back down to feed a log to the now briskly burning fire.

Kenshin said nothing to her as he came into the little circle of light and heat around the fire, and she said nothing to him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he had a pair of fish, already cleaned and spitted on greenwood, and was arranging them near the fire. He sat back and watched the flames jump and twist in silence, and Kaoru turned her own attention back to the fire as well. It was getting big enough and hot enough that, as close as she was, the heat was tightening the skin of her face. She scooted back and let her hands rest in her lap. There was a long moment of silence before Kenshin's head dipped and he studied his own hands in his lap.

"Kaoru-dono," he said. "What happened in the town. I…" He paused and his hands curled into fists. His head lowered a little more. "Forgive me."

Kaoru swallowed, feeling even more guilty for even thinking about leaving him. She returned her stare to the fire. _Why did you attack me? Why do your eyes keep changing colors? I'm afraid for you. I forgive you._

The words pressed against her lips from the inside, and her tongue seemed to swell with the urge to voice them. Kaoru ran her fingers nervously over the worn hem of her _haori_. Softly, her voice thick with all the things she could not say, she told him: "The fish are done."

* * *

Kyoto was clean and smelled only of cooking fires and human habitation. There was no rotting stink or musk of decay, nothing as foul as what had blown off of the ruins of Tokyo. Kaoru stared at the city from the road, at the crest of the last hill before the path dropped to the plain on which Kyoto had been built, and felt her heart quiver with relief.

Shishio had not reached this city yet.

"Kaoru-dono?" Kenshin looked back at her from where he'd stopped, a few paces ahead. She looked back at him, a tremulous smile on her face.

"Kyoto," she breathed. "It's alright."

Kenshin's head tilted, and his bangs obscured his eyes. "Yes," he said.

Kaoru looked again at Kyoto, spread out before her, and then stepped quickly forward. "Come on. Follow me; I think I know where the King will be."

"Will he not be at Crescent Moon Castle?"

Kaoru shook her head. "Tokyo has fallen, so the King will have gone into hiding. The castle will be the first target when Shishio attacks Kyoto, so there will be a token guard at Crescent Moon, giving the illusion that the King is in residence. Really he and a few of his soldiers will be at a secret location."

"I see," Kenshin said distantly, turning his head to watch the few farmers who were tending the rice paddies that marked the outer edge of the city. The paddies would give way to small huts interspersed by little gardens and small stands of trees, and then would come the denser outer streets where some inns and private homes stood. If they continued on the main street, they would reach the merchant corridor, then the market, and then the samurai residences, and finally the castle. But they weren't heading to the castle, as Kaoru had told Kenshin. Instead, she lead him down alleys and backways, crossing over a couple bridges, until they reached the southwestern area of the city, where the press of buildings lessened and the street traffic decreased. Kaoru paid little attention to her surroundings, drawn into her thoughts and more focused on their destination than the way leading to it. Kenshin, however, was watching everything and everyone around them with hawk-like intensity.

Kaoru turned down one last street and paused in front the gate of a large building. It was quiet, hardly seeming inhabited, but Kaoru could see the small signs that told her she'd guessed right. This was where the King was.

She glanced over at Kenshin. She couldn't see his eyes, but the line of his jaw was tense, and his hand kept brushing over the hilt of his sword. She took a breath and held it.

Kenshin turned to look at her, probably wondering why they were just standing outside the gate. She got a good look at his eyes, then.

Gold. She suppressed a shiver and turned away, distracting herself with the sign hanging beside the gate.

"Kamiya Dojo," Kenshin read. She could sense his eyes return to her, burning a question into the back of her head.

"My father's dojo," she said quietly in explanation. "When he died, it went to the Crown. I guess Akira-sama has been keeping up the appearance of it still being a dojo."

Quickly, before he could ask any more questions that would send arrows of grief into her heart, she reached for the bell pull and yanked on it. On the other side of the wall, the bell clanged, and almost immediately there was a shuffling of wood shoes on stone pavers toward the gate.

_'I suppose I just made my choice,' _she thought nervously to herself, darting another glance toward her companion. He was still looking at the sign, and he seemed almost…

Without thinking, she reached out with her senses—one of the small magicks most swords-men and –women possessed—and brushed against Kenshin's _ki_…

And immediately recoiled with sharp breath. The sound of her gasp was swallowed by the louder sound of the gate opening. A wary face peered out and the dark, deep-set eyes widened at the sight of Kaoru. "Kamiya! You're alive! Kiyosato-sama had nearly given up hope. Come in, come in!"

Kaoru wrenched herself back together and mustered a smile for the guard. "Oiji-san!" She stepped quickly inside the gate, Kenshin at her heels. Oiji closed the gate behind them. Kaoru looked around the small front courtyard and bit her lip, looking back at the guard solemnly. "Is it very bad?"

He hesitated, but the answer was written on his face. Kaoru's heart sank. "Oh."

Oiji patted her shoulder in weak reassurance, and told her: "The King will be glad to see you."

"Where is he?" Kaoru asked. "I need to report in."

Oiji flicked a glance toward Kenshin and Kaoru cut in: "He's with me."

The guard nodded, accepting her word, and said: "He's in the back room."

Kaoru bowed slightly to the guard, glanced toward Kenshin, and started moving toward the main building. She led the way unerringly to the back room, passing a maid and two soldiers, who inclined their heads to her. She did not stop to talk to any of them, but she nodded back politely.

The rice paper doors to the back room were flanked by soldiers—samurai, by the paired swords at their hips. They watched Kaoru and Kenshin approach with sharp-eyed gazes. When she was close enough, Kaoru bowed to them. "Messenger Kamiya to report to the King."

"Remove your sword, Messenger," said the guard on the right. Kaoru slid the sheath from her _hakama _ties and placed it on the sword rack next to the doors. She straightened and looked to Kenshin, who was hanging back, watching. And as soon as her eyes landed on him, she realized that she couldn't even abandon him even this little bit; she didn't want to leave him alone in a place filled with strangers, not even if they were people she trusted. Not even if it were as brief as a single candlemark. Not even if the alternative meant bringing this man, this confusing and terrifying man called Battousai, before her King. She'd feared what might happen if she did that. Those fears didn't seem to matter now to her instincts, her gut, which clenched at the idea of walking through the door and leaving Kenshin here.

"He accompanies me," she said, and hoped she didn't regret it. The guard inclined his head.

"No weapons are to be brought before the King. He will have to disarm as well."

Kaoru turned to Kenshin. He looked back at her, his eyes whirling blue-on-gold, then took his katana and placed it on the rack. The second guard, who had not spoken, slid open the door. Kaoru took a deep breath and entered.

There were more samurai guarding the entrance inside, and three other warriors were seated behind the silk-garbed man who sat on a dais across the room. His fine clothes and the large gold medallion hung around his neck—a grander version of the crest sewn into Kaoru's uniform, a rising crane on a chrysanthemum background—proclaimed him the King. Kaoru bowed as she stood just inside the door, then walked decorously up to the foot of the dais. There she bowed again, this time going down to her hands and knees and touching her forehead to the _tatami _mats. Kenshin mimicked her movements at her side.

"Kiyosato-sama," Kaoru said, lifting her head far enough that her voice wasn't muffled. She spoke the formal words of a Messenger to the King: "Will you hear my report?"

"You may speak, Messenger Kaoru," the King replied. She bowed low again, and straightened, settling back with her legs tucked beneath her. Opening her mouth, she began to tell him what had occurred, starting with the last time she had report to him and going though every significant event that had occurred since. She remained steady until she started to speak of the attack that had killed Tomoe.

"The Necromancer was waiting. And he… And there was a spell, and then there were arrows everywhere, and…" she swallowed, licked her lips. Whispered: "Tomoe…"

"We are aware of Messenger Tomoe's death," the King said gently, voice heavy with his own sorrow but still holding to decorum and formality. "Her body was recovered, like the others."

Kaoru's heart twisted, because that meant she had been defiled in death like the others—uncleansed, left by the side of the road as a message to them, crest mockingly cut into her skin. And the King… Tomoe had not just been Kaoru's sister. She had been the King's lover.

Kaoru's head dipped. "She knew she was dying. She told me to run. That one of us had to make it back."

"We are pleased that you were able to return," he said. "And we will pay the proper respects to Messenger Tomoe's spirit for her efforts to ensure that."

Kaoru trembled a little, pained by the necessity of the formality between them. In that moment, she hated propriety, hated that when Akira wore the robes and the crest he was the King and not the man who called her 'little sister'.

She bowed her head and struggled to collect herself. The King waited patiently, and Kenshin maintained the perfect silence he'd been holding since they had walked through the dojo's gate.

"I ran," Kaoru continued quietly. "For days. And then I… I came across an old battlefield…"

She paused, unsure of how to word what had happened. She started again, slowly: "I… met my companion here, Himura Kenshin, in the field… He… I…" and she trailed off into silence again. _'What should I say? Does Kenshin want it to be known who he was? How can I even begin to describe..?'_

"My lord," Kenshin said, "I was bound by a geas to the hill and the battlefield. Messenger Kamiya released me, and I swore life-debt to her. I accompanied her to pay off that debt, and to swear my service to you. I was a King's man before I was bespelled on that hill, and I consider myself one still."

Kaoru watched the King's sharp gaze trace the scar on Kenshin's face, catch on the flame of his hair, take in the old cut of his clothes. Akira said, with commendable calm: "You are Hitokiri Battousai, aren't you?"

Kenshin inclined his head. "I was called that, many years ago."


	6. Name Not the Evil

**Author's Note:** I mixed up my chapter titles, whoops. Last chapter is now "Before the King" and this chapter is "Name Not the Evil." Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I might not respond (unless there is a specific question in it) but I do read them. And sometimes when I'm having a bad day I go back and reread them to feel better about my pathetic existence (graduate school: where getting an education makes you feel stupid).

The concept of not naming/speaking of evil is a very old one, and present in many cultures. The common English phrase is "Speak of the devil and he shall appear." I'm partial to the Finnish phrase "Evil is where it is mentioned." In any case, that concept (and the idea that names have power, which is also old and ubiquitous) is where the title for this chapter is derived.

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_Kenshin wrote faithfully to his family every few weeks. He hoarded the replies, reading them and refolding them, tucking them carefully away, taking them out months later to reread and remember. He missed his family, and he knew that Shishou would take him back to them to visit, if he asked, but he also knew that he had so much to learn, and that Shishou would be annoyed at the delay in training, even if he wouldn't begrudge Kenshin his family. The letters would be enough, until he advanced a little further in his studies of magic and the sword._

_ It would be four years before Kenshin saw his family again, and when he did the intervening time had carved lines in Mother's face that hadn't been there before, and Father's hair was half grey. Brother was married, and Kenshin had a tiny niece whose waving limbs and little burbles were more like magic than anything Kenshin had learned from Shishou so far._

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"It is perhaps wise not call me by that name now. It would not be received well by some," Kenshin said. The King nodded, tapping his folded fan against his chin.

"Yes, I suppose some would be discomfited with the idea of the most deadly assassin of history walking the streets of Kyoto," he said with a small spark of humor. Kenshin inclined his head. Kaoru shifted uncomfortably.

"There is that, but I also meant the Necromancer. I have had some…" here Kenshin paused "…altercations with him, and he may take exception to the fact that I am no longer bound to my hill."

"You don't mean to tell me that the Necromancer is Shi—" Akira started, leaning back with a look of disbelief on his youthful face. Kenshin interrupted him quickly, bowing to touch his forehead to the _tatami_.

"Please forgive this one, Majesty. But I warn you not to use his name. As one with Power, he can hear it, if he Listens."

The King's eyebrows rose and Kaoru's did as well. "Could it lead him to us if we did?"

"Yes, Kiyosato-sama," Kenshin replied, remaining bowed. Akira slapped his fan into the opposite palm, then leaned toward one of his guards.

"Distribute my command: No one in my forces is to call the Necromancer by name," the King ordered. The guard bowed low and left, presumably to pass on the order. The King's hands folded into his lap.

"Thank you, Battousai," Akira said sincerely. Kenshin bowed lower. The King watched him a moment, then gave a humorless half-smile.

"I take it that this Necromancer is, indeed, the Necromancer you faced three hundred and forty-seven years ago?"

"Yes," Kenshin replied. "He is the same. In our last battle, I wounded him gravely. He must have spent the intervening time healing, growing stronger."

Akira was silent, watching Kenshin thoughtfully. "You have fought him before. You know, then, how to defeat him?"

Kenshin paused. "I could not, last I faced him. I only slowed him down."

There was guilt, Kaoru thought, in his voice. Hidden deep, but she could hear it. She bit her lip.

"I could not defeat him, last time," Kenshin continued, and his voice hardened. "This time, I will."

"You won't be alone," Kaoru said, and Kenshin turned an unreadable look toward her. She looked him in the eye before turning back to the King. "The Necromancer has cost me my sister, who was my only family, as well as all my fellow Messengers. He is attacking my kingdom, my King. I want retribution."

The King hesitated, and Kaoru could tell he was reluctant to let her out in the field again. He knew she had a sworn duty as a vassal of the King, and knew that he had no _real_ reason to keep her tucked safely away. What reasons he did have were personal, because of his own personal affection for her, the younger sister of his dead lover. But she knew and he knew that, as King, he could not exempt her from her duties for that personal desire.

"I understand your desire for vengeance," Akira said. "Both of you. But to attack him, alone, would be folly. I will not allow you to throw your lives away."

"Majesty, it is possible that the Necromancer knows of my release; the geas was an old spell, but it was still tied to him after all this time. He might have felt it break." Kenshin paused, then admitted: "A portion of the magic lingers in me, clinging, unwilling to disperse. He will look for me, and it is possible that he will be able to search me out through that magic."

Before Kaoru could think it through, she was half standing, one foot slamming down on the _tatami_ as her hand grasped empty air where her sword would have been. "What?" she demanded, fury heating her words. "Why haven't you mentioned this before? You could have led him right to the King!"

Kenshin's eyes lowered and the skin around his mouth tightened. "The broken fragments of the geas aren't so strong that he could sense them right now and know what ward, let alone building, of the city I am in. All he would know is that I am somewhere in Kyoto. To know more, he would have to be closer to me, to the small sparks of his spell still clinging to me. And the closer he gets to me, the more _I_ can sense _him_."

"Kamiya, hold," the King said mildly. She dropped back into a seated position with her hands clenched into fists. "I cannot imagine that my ancestor's most trusted warrior would endanger us recklessly."

The reprimand brought a twinge of guilt that made Kaoru wince and hide her face behind her bangs.

"Kiyosato-sama, although I don't believe I have brought any immediate danger upon you here, if I stay it does make Kyoto even more tempting of a target. I know the Necromancer will come after me; he hated me in the time of Katsura-sama, and I cannot imagine that loathing will have faded." Kenshin said.

"And so you think it would be best if you _do_ seek the Necromancer out," Akira deduced. Kenshin bowed.

"Yes, Majesty."

Akira watched Kenshin for a long moment, eyes sharp and thoughtful. Then, his lips twisted in a humorless smile. "You would obey me if I ordered you not to, wouldn't you. No, don't worry, I won't deny you this. Very well, Himura Kenshin, I give you leave to hunt the Necromancer."

"Kiyosato-sama," Kaoru said, and he looked at her. Against all rules of propriety, she lifted her eyes and met his. The guards behind him shifted, but he lifted a hand to still them. Akira held her gaze. Then, without taking his eyes off her, he said:

"Himura, you are dismissed."

Kaoru forced herself to stay still, to not look over at Kenshin. She noticed him bowing from the periphery of her vision, and then he backed away and out of her vision. She waited silently until she heard the door slide open and then shut. Then she let her head lower, taking her eyes off of the King's.

"Kamiya," he said, sounding like he wanted to sigh. "You want to go with him."

"Yes, Majesty."

"Why?"

_'Yes, why?' _Kaoru paused, then slowly, haltingly tried to explain. "I…I guess I feel… responsible, a little, for him. I released him from the geas. I… know that I can't… What can I protect him from that he couldn't take care of himself? He is a better swordsman than I. But this isn't the time he knew. It has been over three hundred years since he was bound to that field. The kingdom has changed in that time. The Necromancer has changed. Kenshin can't know that, can't know how things are different. And I… I can't just let him go out without… without knowing, without being properly armed with swords _and _knowledge."

Akira was staring at her, expressionless, and she ducked her head to stare at her lap. She could feel a blush heat her face. She heard the King sigh.

"Kaoru," he said, and she was startled into looking up, as this time he was the one breaking decorum. He was looking at her with a half-smile and a sad look in his eyes. "I know how you were raised; I know what values your family and your sword-style instilled in you. Tomoe had them, too.

"You aren't going to let him be alone, are you? You'd follow him even if I gave you orders not to."

Kaoru swallowed. As much as she wanted to say that no, she would obey the orders of her King, the man she respected and loved like a brother… he was right. She had a bone-deep feeling that if Kenshin were let go on his own, he would certainly die. Whether or not he succeeded in his mission before he died wasn't what she was worried about. She had saved him, and he had saved her, and she _physically could not_ just stand by and let him go to his death.

Not alone, at any rate.

Kaoru looked at Akira helplessly, and whispered: "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he told her, smiling faintly. He straightened his posture. "I am fortunate to have such an honorable vassal as you, Kamiya Kaoru. King's Messenger. Very well. I have a message for you to carry to the Necromancer. Tell him: Death will come for him."

"I will do as you bid, Kiyosato-sama," Kaoru said thickly and bowed low, hearing the dismissal. She shuffled backwards out of the room with the appropriate slow decorum. There was a guard just inside the door whose job it was to open the door for those leaving the presence of the King. Kaoru used the sound of _shush_ of the door sliding open to orient herself so that she backed gracefully out of the room. The door shut in front of her still-bowed head after she'd crossed the threshold.

Kaoru let out a breath and then turned to reclaim her sword. Thrusting it through the ties of her _hakama_, she took a few steps down the _engawa_ and paused. Where was-?

"Kaoru-dono?" Kenshin's voice startled her into taking a short, sharp breath. She turned. He was in the small courtyard garden, sitting hidden in the shade of the maple tree. He stared back at her, expression unreadable.

She watched him for a moment. "I'm accompanying you on your hunt."

His eyes whirled, and she ducked her head before she could decide what color they settled on. Would they be yellow with his anger? Or annoyance? He hadn't seemed happy, before, when she told him he wasn't going alone. And now that she had the King's permission, even his orders, Kenshin wouldn't be able to deny her… He might resent it, being forced into her company.

"I need to check in with the healer. You can come, if you like. Or you can ask the maids to prepare a room for you." Kaoru tried to inject confidence into her voice.

Kenshin soundlessly stood and took three steps forward, just outside arms reach. Kaoru refused to look at him directly. Finally, he said: "I will accompany you."

"Fine," Kaoru said, heart thumping awkwardly. "Follow me, then."

She turned crisply and walked around the dojo to one of the east-facing rooms. She was painfully aware of Kenshin keeping pace behind her, silent. She couldn't read him, and hadn't mustered the courage to open her _ki_ to his again. She could look into his eyes to see what emotion colored them, but she was afraid that if she saw how much he didn't want her to be there, she wouldn't be able to hold onto her resolve.

Kaoru stopped in front of a door and took a deep breath. She tried for a smile, but her lips only trembled into a weak grimace. She stopped trying, letting her weariness and worry reign over her expression. She pushed the door open.

"Megumi…" she said, seeing the dark-haired healer almost immediately. Megumi's shoulders stiffened and she turned around sharply.

"Kaoru!" Megumi took a step forward. Her cinnamon-colored eyes were wide, her red mouth open in surprise. "You're alive!"

Kaoru felt a true—if weak—smile curve her lips. "It's so good to see you again."

For a second, she could have sworn she saw tears shimmer in Megumi's eyes, and her own eyes widened. Megumi was the most self-contained person she'd ever met, and she'd never seen her cry. The healer whipped back around to whatever she'd been working on when Kaoru'd come in. The rasp of a grindstone started up.

"Well, Tanuki? I imagine you're here because you got yourself injured yet again." Megumi's voice was brisk, and Kaoru's weak smile became a little stronger.

"I would've come even if I wasn't injured…" she protested. Megumi snorted indelicately. She gestured over her shoulder.

"Sit."

Kaoru obeyed, peripherally aware of Kenshin slipping into the room, sliding the door shut behind him. When Megumi turned back around, she hesitated at the sight of him. "And you are?"

"Oh," Kaoru said. "Megumi, this is Himura Kenshin. Kenshin, this is Takani Megumi. She's one of the healers attached to the King's Guard and the Messengers. Megumi, Kenshin is a big reason why I made it back alive."

Kenshin bowed slightly, but said nothing. Megumi eyed him. "Are you injured as well?"

"No," he said. "I am merely accompanying Kaoru-dono."

Megumi lifted an eyebrow at the honorific, but all she said was: "Alright, just please stay out of my way as I work."

Kaoru licked her lips nervously at Megumi's typically brusque command, but Kenshin only inclined his head obligingly. Megumi turned her attention back to Kaoru. "So? Where are you injured, Tanuki?"

She hadn't minded the nickname the first time Megumi had used it—hearing it again had reminded her how close she had gotten to never seeing Megumi and the King and all her comrades again—but that sense of weary relief was quickly turning to annoyance. She stamped out the snide response that threatened to spill from her lips, and only lifted a hand to her collar. "It's my arm. When… When I escaped the Necromancer and his… creatures, one of the arrows nicked me. I cleaned and bound it, but it hasn't been healing."

A little self-conscious, Kaoru shrugged out of one sleeve of her kimono. Her chest was bound, so she wasn't revealing anything other than her arm and shoulder, but it was still more skin than she normally showed and she was still hyper-aware of Kenshin's presence. She fixed her attention on Megumi.

The healer frowned thoughtfully, taking Kaoru's arm in a gentle hold. There was a strip of linen bandaging around her upper arm, and Megumi deftly began to unwind it, murmuring something under her breath about poisons. Kaoru held as still as she could as the last of the bandage came off, and the wound was revealed.

Even though it had been over a week since it had been slashed into her skin, fresh blood was still weeping from the wound. Kaoru grimaced as Megumi's grip tightened at the sight. Against the opposite wall, Kenshin went rigid, head lifting and eyes flashing. In the space of a breath, he strode forward, neatly shouldered Megumi out of the way, and took Kaoru's arm in a firm grip.

"What do you think you're doing?" Megumi said furiously. Kenshin ignored her, and Kaoru flinched as he pressed his cold fingers against the skin around the wound.

"That hurts!" she protested, as blood welled. Kenshin's eyes were narrowed, intent on the wound, and he touched two fingers to it. Drops of blood clung to his fingertips, and he raised them to his nose to scent them, then the hand dipped and he touched the blood to his tongue. Kaoru's mouth shut with a click. Stunned into silence, Megumi stood frozen in the middle of a rant.

"What—?" Kaoru started, but she lost the words as Kenshin's eyes rose to hers.

Gold.

"Why didn't you say you were injured?" he demanded.

"It's just a scratch! I wasn't going to die from it!" Kaoru protested. "I thought if I just bandaged it, I'd see a healer when I got back."

"There is no healer who can help you with this," Kenshin said. "It was made by the Necromancer, it is poisoned with his magic! You need a wizard to heal this wound."

"I… What?" Kaoru said.


	7. The Wizard

**Author's Note:** So a small note about _deshi _and _shishou_ and Master and Apprentice. The English is not interchangeable with the Japanese in this story, because the English words mean something very specific here. That's why I use both.

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_The visit to his family bolstered Kenshin's spirits, and he returned with Shishou to their mountaintop ready to continue his training with firm resolve. Seeing Mother and Father alleviated some of the loneliness he'd felt since leaving with Shishou at age eight, and seeing Brother and meeting his new niece filled him with a new understanding for the responsibility his Power had bestowed upon him._

_ Strangely, Shishou was not pleased with his Deshi's increased fervor for learning. In fact, Kenshin thought that Shishou was more serious, more unyielding in his manner than before he took Kenshin to see his family. He did drill Kenshin harder in Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, was harsher in his lessons of magic, but it seemed a grueling, punishing thing rather than a response to Kenshin's eagerness._

_ Kenshin knew that Shishou did not approve of his continued contact with his family. He would have thought Shishou would have been pleased that Kenshin had a strong motivation. Instead, he seemed grim and unhappy. Kenshin didn't understand it._

_ Then, two months after he had visited them, Kenshin received a letter from his family. His father and brother were ill._

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

"This wound is beyond the skill of any healer. Only a wizard may counteract the magic poisoning you," Kenshin said. She stared at him.

"What happens if I don't find wizard?" she asked.

"The magic in that wound is weakening you slowly. If you don't get it healed, it will eventually kill you," Kenshin told her bluntly. She bit her lip, shivering.

"Wait just a minute," Megumi seemed to have found her tongue. "What do _you_ know of this? You're just—"

"I spent over three hundred years under the Necromancer's magic! I recognize its foulness," Kenshin said coldly. Megumi took a step back at his hard stare.

"So I need to find a wizard," Kaoru said, her soft voice drawing both of their attention. She lifted her eyes to meet Kenshin's. "How? There are only ever two with Power. The Necromancer is one. We do not know who or where the other is."

Kenshin's eyes shuttered, and he looked away. "He is… just outside this city…"

"Here?" Kaoru breathed. It seemed too good to be true. "Kyoto?"

Kenshin gave one sharp jerk of a nod, and half way turned away. "I can lead you there, at least part way." He paused. "It would be best to take care of it immediately."

"Um." Kaoru said, her head spinning. "But… I need to get permission from the King to leave, first…"

Kenshin nodded, the motion once again sharp and tense. "Bind the wound. I will wait outside."

He slipped out of the room, leaving Kaoru staring after him with wide eyes, and Megumi with her mouth gaping. Slowly, the healer turned back to her. "Kaoru, who exactly did you say that was?"

"Himura Kenshin," Kaoru replied quietly. "But, um… you might have heard of him as the… ah… Battousai."

Megumi pursed her lips as she pulled out a roll of bandages. "The legendary swordsman? The one that's, what, four hundred years old? The one that disappeared after the first war with the Necromancer?"

"It's like some kind of ballad, or children's tale, isn't it? But he was bound by magic, and I… I helped him free of it." Kaoru said. "Ow!"

Megumi gave the bandage she'd wound around Kaoru's arm another tug. Her eyes were dark and not focused, enough her hands did not falter as she tied off the bandage. "He's certainly intense enough to be the legend. But…"

She trailed off, and gave a troubled look to Kaoru. "I know," Kaoru murmured in response to the questions and warnings in that glance. "But it's not so simple."

"Be careful," Megumi said, as Kaoru shrugged her kimono sleeve back into place. The healer seemed to firm up, then, and added with her usual sternness: "And next time you see me, don't let it be because you're injured!"

"I got it, I got it," Kaoru said, smiling a little. "Thanks, Megumi."

* * *

Akira touched his fan against his lips thoughtfully. "So you need to leave to find this wizard so he can heal this… cursed wound."

"Yes, Kiyosato-sama," Kaoru replied, bowing.

"And if you don't, you'll die."

"Yes." Kaoru kept her head low. Akira paused and then said:

"Of course you have my leave to go. Would you like a guard escort?"

"No, I thank you, Kiyosato-sama. Kenshin will accompany me. He is guard enough, and we will want to be as inconspicuous as possible," Kaoru replied.

"Very well," the King said. "Go, and make haste. It would not do for me to lose my only Messenger so soon after regaining her."

Kaoru looked up at his face and smiled. "No, Majesty. Nor would it do for me to die now after fighting so hard to return to you."

Kaoru was filled with the conviction that she would return, healed, to her King no matter what. She walked with a determined stride alongside Kenshin as they left the Kamiya Dojo.

After a long silence, in which they covered most of the distance from the dojo to the city limits, Kaoru finally decided to try to eke out more information from her companion. "How did you know the wizard was here?"

She didn't think he'd answer, at first, because the silence stretched on longer with no sign that he even heard her. Then: "I… knew him."

"Knew him? He was alive when you… before you were bound?"

"Yes," Kenshin replied. He hesitated. "He's the Master."

Kaoru's eyes widened. There were only ever two with the Power of the Greater Magicks: the Master and the Apprentice. While the appellations held no bearing on level of ability or strength, the title of Master was given to whichever wizard had held the Power for longer. If this man was the Master, that meant he'd become a wizard before Shishio became the Apprentice, three hundred forty-sum-odd years ago. Since those with Power did not age as normal, this meant he could be any age at all. Five hundred, seven hundred… a thousand…

They reached the edge of the city, and Kenshin began to lead her up into the forested mountains. Kaoru was silent, cowed by the shadow of the man she was going to see. He would have to be powerful, if Shishio had not killed him. Kaoru wondered if that was because he had hidden himself so well that the Necromancer couldn't find him, or if Shishio feared him too much to even attempt to kill him.

What if the wizard refused to help her? She could hardly threaten him into it. She had nothing to offer to reward him, or blackmail him. She doubted she was clever enough to manipulate him. If he didn't heal her, she supposed she would just… die. Unless Kenshin somehow persuaded him, on the grace of their previous acquaintanceship.

Kaoru stopped when Kenshin did, and blinked at their surroundings. They were at a fork in the road; the main path continued winding around the side of the mountain, but there was also a smaller, steeper path—more of a deertrack, really—that led up the slope. Kenshin gazed up this smaller path, expression unreadable.

"This is as far as I can go," he said. As if sensing her confusion, he turned to her and explained: "He has sealed the area to any of those who have Power, or were touched with Power. There is enough magic still in me that I cannot pass across."

"Oh," Kaoru said. She hesitated, looking at the path. "What about me? Isn't there magic in the cut on my arm?"

"Not enough to engage this spell," Kenshin replied. Kaoru's lips twisted into a dry smile.

"But apparently enough to kill me," she muttered. Kenshin's head dipped. She sighed, and eyed the path again.

"It is easy to find," Kenshin said. "Just follow this path and it will lead you to him."

Kaoru nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "Do you know what he is called? His name?"

"Hiko Seijuro. The Thirteenth."

"Right," she said, hesitating still, uncomfortable with the idea of going on alone, of leaving Kenshin there.

"I will wait here," Kenshin assured her, as if sensing her discomfort. Kaoru nodded understanding. She took a subtle, fortifying breath.

"Well." She stepped forward. Knowing that there was some kind of barrier in front of her, but being unable to see it, made her steps tentative. She kept feeling as if she was about to run face-first into something, despite Kenshin's assurances.

"Kaoru-dono…" Kenshin's voice was soft but clear. Kaoru turned with a questioning look. The redhead was standing, carefully motionless, with his bangs hiding his face. "Why are you insisting you go with me?"

She hadn't expected him to ask, and especially not at that moment. But still, she didn't have to ask for clarification; she knew what he meant. And, somehow, it was much easier to find the right words this time, perhaps because she had already had to think through her reasons when the King had asked the same question. "Because," Kaoru said, "if I don't, you won't come back."

She caught a flash of startled violet when he glanced up at her through his hair. Suddenly blushing, Kaoru turned back around and started up the path. Kenshin didn't call her back.

Kaoru trudged up the mountain, thankful that the training for, and completion of, her duties as a Messenger had developed her endurance and stamina. The climb made her a little out of breath, but she suspected that part of it was because she was already tired from the journey to find the King, and (apparently) the drain of the cursed wound. She didn't have to stop, though, not to catch her breath or to stretch sore muscles. Her pace was a touch on the slow side, but steady.

The sun was just setting when she broke from the dense vegetation into a large clearing where the slope of the mountainside leveled out. She blinked at the modest house and large outdoor kiln that stood in the midst of a bare patch of earth. Then a veritable mountain of a man came around the corner of the house, and she took an involuntary step back, surprised.

He was at least a head and shoulders taller than her, the muscles in his arms were larger than her head, and he carried a sword. His dark eyes were fixed on her, and he lifted an eyebrow as if to say "Well?"

"Are you Hiko Seijuro?" she managed to ask.

"I am," he said. "And who are you, that my idiotic _deshi _has led you here?"

Kaoru blinked, her answer lost as she focused on the last bit. "Your… _deshi_? Kenshin?"

His expression seemed to darken. "Hn. He didn't tell you."

"Did you… Did you teach him swordsmanship?" Kaoru asked, looking at the katana sheath that poked out the bottom of Hiko's grandiose cape. He snorted.

"Yes, I suppose I did."

Kaoru was feeling more confused by the moment. She watched with a furrowed brow as Hiko sat on one of the logs in the yard apparently set out for that express purpose. He pulled a jug from somewhere under the cape and uncorked it, taking a draught. "Well, girl? Are you going to answer me?"

Kaoru tried to remember what he'd asked. "Oh! Forgive me. I am Kamiya Kaoru, King's Messenger."

"And what are you doing on my mountain, smelling of hostile magic?"

He was apparently a very forward man, when he wasn't being cryptic. "The Necromancer injured me, and Kenshin said that the wound was poisoned with his magic. I was… Um. I was hoping you could heal me."

"And who are you, Kamiya Kaoru, to my _deshi_ that he would risk coming back here?" He took another gulp from his jug.

Kaoru mouthed _"risk coming back?" _with equal parts curiosity and worry, before she responded: "I… well… It's a bit of story…"

Hiko lifted an eyebrow at her again. Kaoru could tell she would get very tired of that look on his face. _'Just tell him. The sooner he's got his answers the sooner you'll be healed.'_

Kaoru took a breath and huffed it out. She went to the tree stump across from the wizard's seat, and lowered herself onto it. "I was running from the Necromancer's creatures…"

The words seemed to take on a will of their own, pouring from her unchecked. He did not interrupt, and the only indication that he was listening was the silent stillness in which he sat. Finally, the flow of words ceased, and feeling oddly hollowed out, Kaoru took a deep breath and held it, staring at her toes.

"An interesting story," Hiko said, back to being cryptic. She heard his cape rustle, and looked up to see him gesture at her. "Let me see this wound, now."

It took her a moment to process the command, then she jolted, reaching automatically for the collar of her clothes. She paused, fingers hooked in the fabric, and said awkwardly: "It's on my upper arm…"

If it had been embarrassing to slip her kimono off one shoulder in Kenshin's presence, this was infinitely worse. Not because she thought Hiko was more good-looking, or felt like the situation was more sexual, but because baring her skin and the wrapped wound made her feel more vulnerable when it was under the eye of Hiko Seijuro the Thirteenth, wizard, Master, and apparent master swordsman.

If he noticed her discomfort, he showed no sign. He took her arm in a grip that was firm but not rough, and unwound the bandage from the cut. Twisting the arm into the red-orange light of the setting sun, he frowned, then held up a hand and flicked his fingers. An orb of soft white light flickered to life in his cupped palm. Kaoru stared at the blatant display of magic.

Under the brighter, clearer light, he touched the skin around the wound, then the wound itself, and then released her. "Hold your arm out away from your body," he ordered, taking his jug from where it hung at his waist. As Kaoru did as he said, he uncorked it. Kaoru heard the liquid inside slosh quietly. Then he poured it over the wound, and Kaoru bit her tongue at the burn of alcohol against the wound. _Sake_. She probably should have guessed that was what it was from the way he'd drunk it.

Hiko corked the bottle, set it down, and took hold of Kaoru's arm again. With the first two fingers of his other hand, he pressed down on one side of the wound, and smoothed his fingers over the slash to the other side. Kaoru watched in fascination, for, as he dragged his fingers over the wound, it closed. Smooth, unbroken skin was left behind in the wake of his touch.

Finished, the wizard grunted and dropped her arm. "You didn't complain. Good."

Kaoru inspected her healed arm, which was also surprisingly completely dry. No trace of the wound or the _sake_ remained. She looked back at Hiko, who was sitting back on his log, mage-light gone, swigging from the _sake _jug.

"Thank you," she said, and Hiko grunted. She shrugged her kimono sleeve back on, and smoothed her fingers over the collar to get it to lie correctly. Then she sat quietly, watching the shadows stretch across the packed dirt. Hiko didn't seem to mind her presence; he simply ignored her until at last she took a deep breath and asked: "May I ask you something?"

He lifted that damn eyebrow again. Kaoru scowled at her knees. "I… just want to understand magic a little better."

"Oh?" Hiko said. Kaoru chewed on her lip. That wasn't a no, and he didn't seem particularly annoyed at her asking, so…

"Why did you use _sake_ in healing me?" Best to start simple.

"The healing was a spell in two parts," he told her readily enough. "The _sake _drew out Shishio's magic before I closed the wound."

Kaoru nodded before venturing: "Kenshin… Kenshin said before that the Necromancer could hear his name being spoken because of his magic and the power of his name… And that he could find us if he Listened. But when Kenshin and I were running from him, we both said his name, I know we did. And just now, you said his name…"

Hiko grumbled. "Just who do you think you're talking to, girl? I am the Master. That moronic upstart could never threaten me."

"But—" wisdom catching up to her mouth, Kaoru cut off the rest of her question. She very much doubted he would forgive her if she implied he was hiding from Shishio at this mountain hermitage.

"What my idiot _Deshi _said is essentially true. Names have power—all names, not just those belonging to wizards or mages. But those with magic are the only ones who can sense the vibrations that the use of names cause, and only with their own names. If they Listen, they can feel their name being spoken—I heard my _Deshi _speak my name when he brought you here. But it is not fine magic; all that one can sense is that the name was spoken, and a vague direction. It is much like how a spider can feel when a fly becomes trapped in its web."

Kaoru pictured Shishio with the spindly spidery limbs of the creature she and Kenshin had seen on the road, and shivered.

Hiko continued: "I am much stronger than Shishio in sword and magic; he has not dared to attack me in a hundred years. Thus, I have no fear in using his name. When you and Kenshin spoke his name, you were traveling. Even if Shishio Listened at those times, he would only known where you _had _been. A single moment in a stream of time."

"I see," Kaoru said, thoughtfully. "So it was only when we stopped to see the King that it became dangerous, because we weren't moving anymore."

Hiko sipped _sake_. Kaoru rubbed her fingers over a ragged tear in her _hakama_. With everything that had been happening, she had not had the opportunity to change her clothes; she was still wearing the tattered uniform she had met Kenshin in.

She licked her lips. "One more question. Can magic change someone's personality?"

There was a silence. Then Hiko said: "Ah. You mean Kenshin."


	8. Storytelling

**Author's Note:** In case anyone's interested, I've been posting fic status on my profile. If you want to know when next I'll update, it'll be there.

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_Kenshin received another letter very soon after the first, this time from the priest alone, who had felt it his responsibility to send to the village boy who had become the Apprentice. He asked for help. The village, and the ironworks just down the mountain from it, had been stricken by a wasting sickness. Victims coughed, and burned with fever, becoming sunken-eyed husks of their former selves. All of Kenshin's family had fallen ill; his mother had taken fever the day after she had sent her last letter._

_ 'The priests and herbalists can do nothing. Nearly all the men at the ironworks are ill, and half the village as well. We humbly beg assistance from the Master and Apprentice; the sickness is beyond us.' –the letter read._

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Kaoru couldn't seem to bring herself to look at Hiko, though he was watching her with a level gaze.

Kenshin. He'd called him by name, rather than just '_deshi_.' Kaoru had a feeling her question had touched on something important. She squirmed a little, then answered Hiko: "Well… yes. It's just that Kenshin…"

She paused, uncertain. It wasn't as if she'd known Kenshin for very long; she could hardly claim to be familiar with him, or his personality. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there were inconsistencies in his manner. And there was the matter of his eyes…

Perhaps that was where she should start. She tore her eyes away from Hiko, and stared at her hands, clasped in her lap. "His eyes change color, and I've never… Obviously, I've never seen such a thing before, so I assumed that it was because of magic. And he's admitted that there is magic left over from Sh—the Necromancer's spell, still clinging to him."

She hesitated, but Hiko said nothing, his level stare prompting her to continue: "The color changes correspond to changes in behavior, his mood. When they are purple, he is gentle and polite. But when they're gold…" She licked her lips nervously. "He almost killed me, you know. We were in a town and there were these thugs… Kenshin wanted to kill them, and I stopped him, but it was like he didn't even recognize me. All he could see was that I was in his way."

"Idiot," Hiko grumbled, and Kaoru wondered if he meant Kenshin or her. She waited uneasily to see if he'd say anything else, but he just narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at the ground.

"Then, is it—" Kaoru began.

"You are right," Hiko interrupted. "There is magic still lingering in him. But it isn't quite what you think. There are things you don't know."

"I don't—" Kaoru tried again, but Hiko ran over her words once more.

"If you are going to accompany him on his hunt for Shishio, you should know the truth." He pinned her with a look and commanded: "Attend."

She blinked at him, startled.

"Kenshin was not just my _Deshi _in swordsmanship. I also taught him how to use his Power," Hiko said.

"Shouldn't Kenshin be the one to tell me this?" Kaoru asked hesitantly when Hiko paused. The wizard shook his head.

"That idiot is too afraid to tell anyone of his past," he said. "But for you not to know would be dangerous, where you're going."

"Still…" Kaoru murmured.

"You were perceptive enough to release the geas that bound him, strong enough to stand against him when he would have killed, and trusted him well enough to follow him here; I believe you can handle this truth," Hiko said bluntly. She stared at him, mouth snapping shut. He held her gaze briefly, before taking a draught of _sake_. "Kenshin was once the Apprentice."

Kaoru made a small noise of surprise.

"He forsook the Power," the Master continued. "Gave it up in one last, sloppy spell."

"How is that possible?" Kaoru asked. "I didn't think…"

"It had never been done before," Hiko grunted. "But then, Kenshin has always been a law unto himself."

Kaoru's head was buzzing. "But if he gave it up, and wasn't the Apprentice anymore… then the Power went to Shishio?"

"Yes," Hiko replied, grim. Kaoru's heart was beating a hard, sick _thump thump thump_ in her throat.

"He doesn't just feel guilty about not beating Shishio all those years ago," she whispered, half to herself. "He blames himself for the Necromancer's very existence."

"Yes," Hiko agreed. Kaoru took a breath, the air stuttering into her lungs. She held it a beat, then let it out slow and steady. She looked Hiko in the eye.

"Maybe you should start from the beginning," she suggested. He inclined his head.

* * *

Hiko was thirty years old and already a master swordsman when the Power came to him, and he was only thirty-one when the old Master willed himself into the grave and left Hiko, half-trained, to become the new Master. But magic had its ways, and day after day, Hiko would wake to find new knowledge in his mind, new understanding coloring his view of the world, the sword, and magic.

Then came the day when Hiko woke knowing that the Power had chosen a new Apprentice. Magic pushed, pulled, and drove him down off his mountain to find the new wizard.

The Apprentice was an eight-year-old boy from a peasant family. His father and brother worked in the ironworks in the valley below their mountain village, and his mother grew indigo plants to sell to weavers for dye-making. Hiko was slightly less annoyed with the prospect of taking on the wide-eyed child when no tears were shed during their farewells.

He brought the boy back to his hermitage, and renamed him Kenshin, for the spark he could sense in his _ki_. Hiko taught Kenshin the sword, to nurture that spark, and so he would benefit from the skills and discipline the training would impart upon him. His approach to teaching magic was much the same as his approach to teaching the sword; demanding and stern. When he discovered that Kenshin knew nothing of reading or writing, he taught him that too.

The boy was sharper than he expected, and almost painfully earnest. He picked up his lessons quickly, and worked himself to exhaustion trying to please his new teacher. Hiko could almost be optimistic…

But he feared what Kenshin's continued attachment to his family would result in. It was the reason the previous Master had died; magic responded strongly to will, and the previous Master had not been able to withstand watching his wife, children, and grandchildren all age and pass on before him. He had lost his will to live, and so died. Hiko knew that Kenshin's relationship with his family would only end in tears, but he was no fool. He would not forbid Kenshin to contact them, would not set himself as an enemy to the boy, and so he could only watch and hope that everything he was teaching the boy would fortify him for the inevitable tragedy.

In the end, the tragedy was even worse than he had feared. The boy's family sickened—a swift, wasting, coughing illness that swept with terrible virulence through the peasants' small mountain village—and died. Kenshin was twelve, an orphan, and bitter toward the magic that didn't save his loved ones. He continued his training mostly because it was the only thing left to him.

And then, two years later, the war started. A noble decided that he would make a better King than Katsura, and began a bloody civil war. Fourteen years old and far too idealistic, Kenshin wanted to help. Hiko told him what he had told him when his family had been dying… And at this final betrayal of magic, he contrived to give up his Power, to free himself to act in whatever way he could to save people.

The world screamed when Kenshin tore the Power from himself. The shock of it left both Kenshin and Hiko—who felt it like a knife to his temple—unconscious for weeks after. When they came back to themselves, they fought, and Kenshin left to fight and kill in a war he should have never had a part of, and Hiko felt a sick twisting in the magic as whoever had gained Kenshin's repudiated Power used it in the worst way imaginable…

* * *

"I discovered later that the Power had gone to a man who was a _hitokiri_ for the rebel nobleman, and that the very first thing he did with the magic was to kill." Hiko looked at Kaoru, who had sat through the story soundlessly and motionlessly. "That is forbidden; Shishio twisted the magic, and it twisted him. He became the Necromancer."

Kaoru's hands were clenched together in her lap and she stared at them with a set jaw. "Why haven't you _done_ anything about this? Any of this? Why haven't you stopped Shishio? Why aren't you fighting? Why didn't you help Kenshin? He was your student and you left him under a curse for hundreds of years!"

"Do not mistake your lack of understanding for my lack of action!" Hiko thundered, and Kaoru flinched despite herself. "I have been working all this time to combat the damages Shishio's poisonous magic is wreaking upon the world. What can be destroyed in the matter of days will take years to mend, and years of those wounds will take centuries to heal. I still hold the Power! That means that I cannot use it in any capacity that might kill; if I do so, then I will become no different than Shishio. All I may do is heal."

"You can fight without magic," Kaoru said stubbornly. "You are a master swordsman! And how can you say that releasing Kenshin would not have been healing?"

"I have been the Master for centuries. Magic is as much a part of everything I do as breathing. There is nothing I do that does not carry magic, whether I will it or no." The wizard took a breath, and some of the fury blazing in his eyes died down. "As for my _Deshi_… I believed him dead. And I could never sense anything to suggest otherwise, until you broke the geas two weeks ago."

Kaoru glared at the ground and tried to grapple with her own sense of helplessness, her anger and grief at what had happened to Kenshin… It bothered her that Hiko hadn't done anything, though his explanations for why made sense, and it bothered her that _she_ couldn't do anything because it was all in the past. She'd _felt _the turmoil in Kenshin's soul, when she'd brushed against his _ki_. And that had been only an echo of everything he felt.

Like a plug had been pulled, the anger drained out of her, leaving her empty and aching. She cradled her face in her hands and said, muffled: "Is that all?"

"No," Hiko said. "You asked me if magic can change a personality. The answer is no, it can't. It cannot create feelings that are not there to begin with. I taught Kenshin to save lives, to heal, as a wizard must. I never taught him how to kill; even when I taught him the sword, it was never with the intention that he would use it for that purpose. I taught him the sword to teach him discipline, to temper his body and mind."

Hiko paused and scowled. "People forget that to know the sword is not to know how to kill. One must not only have a steady hand, but a steady heart and mind as well. Kenshin was never taught how to deal with blood on his hands, so he had to find his own way. His answer was to lock away his emotions and to pretend that each death he dealt did not affect him."

"Then it isn't the magic that's making him act like two different people," Kaoru said. "It's himself."

"Not completely," Hiko corrected her. "You were right in wondering if magic causes the changes you've seen in him; it does. But it is not the magic lingering from Shishio's spell that is doing it. It's the fragment of magic that was left in Kenshin after he gave up the Power. I said the spell was sloppy."

"So… Kenshin still has some of the magic he had when he was the Apprentice," Kaoru said, thinking. "And you said that magic responds strongly to will…"

"My idiot _Deshi_ is still trying to escape his emotions, and that tiny sliver of magic is reacting to that and making him _not have _emotions."

"But not all the time," Kaoru said softly. Hiko paused.

"No," he agreed slowly. "Not all the time."

"Is there any way you can get the magic out of him?"

"It's not like drawing a curse from a wound," the wizard said pointedly. "That magic is tied to his spirit. The only way it is going to stop twisting him is if he forgives himself and stops _making_ it twist him."

"Oh," Kaoru said. Hiko looked her over with his sharp eyes.

"You want to help him," he stated. Kaoru flushed. "Why?"

"Why?" Kaoru repeated, confusion clearing the blush from her face. "Why not? I can tell he's trying to right his wrongs, or what he thinks are his wrongs. I've seen him struggle with whatever the magic is doing to him. He's been trying to help me, protect me. Why shouldn't I do the same for him?"

Hiko sipped calmly at his _sake_. Kaoru fidgeted, then asked: "How… How _can _I help him?"

"Hn," Hiko grunted. "You already are."

Kaoru frowned, trying to process that. She couldn't see how it could be true. The wizard noticed her furrowed brow and said: "When he was Katsura's 'Battousai', his eyes were always gold. But you said his eyes change."

"Well, yes, but that might not even be my—"

"Just keep on as you have been," Hiko interrupted. "Something about you obviously speaks to him." He glanced up at the sky, now spangled with stars. Kaoru looked up, too, surprised to find the sun completely set and the clearing lit with a mage-light she hadn't noticed the wizard conjuring. "He must be wondering why you have been so long."

It took her a moment to catch the dismissal in his words, and she blinked at him, hesitating. "But…"

"Talking to you mortals is wearying," he declared, standing up. "Go on. If you have any more questions, direct them to the idiot waiting for you at the base of the mountain."

Kaoru stared after him, annoyed at the abrupt dismissal, and feeling a little adrift. She had gotten some answers, but… The wizard had disappeared into his hut, and she wasn't so bold as to bother him again, not after he had dismissed her. He seemed a stubborn person, and she doubted persistence would change his mind.

Slowly, she stood, cast one last glance at the quiet hut, then turned and started trudging back the way she had come. Kenshin was waiting for her, standing at the fork in the path where she had left him. His head rose as she approached, and he waited patiently for her to reach him.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"Yes, Hiko-san healed me easily," she told him. He nodded, and there was a subtle lessening of tension in his shoulders. Kaoru couldn't quite make out the color of his eyes in the dim light of the stars and moon.

He didn't ask why it had taken hours. He simply accepted her words and turned to lead the way down from the mountains back into Kyoto. It seemed a shorter journey returning than going. Kaoru supposed it was because she wasn't dying slowly by degrees.

They reached the dojo, and the guard at the gate let them in without hassle. It was almost immediately after Kaoru had set foot in the front courtyard that she was attacked.

"Oi, Ugly!"

Kaoru yelped as four feet of furious ten-year-old slammed into her side, arms wrapping around her waist and head tucking under her arm. "Yahiko!" Her hands went to his shoulders, but he clung closer to her, resisting her attempt to pull him off. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and returned the tight hug, instead. "I'm fine, Yahiko. See? I'm back, I'm fine."

"Megumi said you were here earlier," Yahiko said, voice muffled. "We _thought you were dead _and you didn't even _say_ anything! You just left again!"

"I'm sorry, Yahiko," Kaoru said, wincing. His head pulled away from her side and he glared at her.

"Sorry's not good enough!" he fumed. "What'm I s'posed to do if you die, Ugly?"

"Take my place as Messenger?" she asked wryly. "Oof!"

He slugged her in the side and ripped himself away to glare even more darkly at her, hands akimbo. She lifted her own hands in surrender. "Alright, alright… not a funny joke. Sorry."

"Missy!" boomed out another voice across the courtyard. Kaoru and Yahiko (and, she thought, Kenshin) jumped at the sound. A tall, lanky brunette man strode toward them, his white outfit washed orange with the lantern light. When he reached them, he engulfed Kaoru in a bear-hug, lifting her feet off the ground. Kaoru laughed and pounded on his arm with a friendly fist.

"Sano!"

"Missy! You're alive!" Sano said, grinning widely. He swung her around in a circle, and set her down. Almost in the same instant in which her feet touched down, she was hauled backwards and Kenshin placed himself firmly between her and Sano. His sword was out and his entire body screamed tension.

Everyone froze, Kaoru sucking in a startled breath and Sano's eyes going wide.

"_Sekihoutai_," Kenshin snarled. Kaoru could tell just from the tone of his voice that his eyes would be blazing gold. "What are you doing in the court of the King?"

Oh. _Oh no_. When Sano spun her around, Kenshin must have gotten a good look at the uniform Sano was wearing— red headband, white coat, and a _kanji_ writ bold in black between his shoulder blades… a _kanji_ brand that had been used for the disgraced _Sekihoutai_. Kaoru stepped to the side, intending to sidle around to cut between the two. But Kenshin moved with her, keeping himself between her and Sanosuke.

Protecting her.

Realizing that made it easier to keep her voice calm and level. "Kenshin, it's alright. Put your sword away."

"He is _Sekihoutai_!" Kenshin growled. Kaoru winced and glanced at Sano, whose eyes were fixed on the red-haired swordsman. The small, private army had been condemned three hundred fifty years ago, when Kenshin's liege-lord had refused to send reinforcements in their hour of need. There was still debate over the morality of that decision, however tactically sound it had been at the time. The survivors, embittered and furious, had turned against Katsura. They had been named traitors, but…

"That was centuries ago," Sano told Kenshin, hands lifted disarmingly. "The King before Kiyosato-sama made full reparations to the descendants of the _Sekihoutai_. We've made peace. I am a King's Guard, and I take my vows seriously."

"Why do you still wear the brand?" Kenshin demanded. Sano's eyes flicked down to the front of his coat, as if he could see through himself to the _kanji_ on his back.

"What this?" Sano flicked a thumb at his collar. "It's a reminder. To both me, and the King. But that's all it is. I _took an oath_. I'm a King's man."

Kaoru watched a slight shudder run through Kenshin, then he said, "You are sworn to the King?"

There was some measure of emotion back in his cold, dead voice. Sano nodded. "Yes."

Kenshin had to know that oaths taken before the King were powerful and binding; they were more than just words, there was Lesser Magic in them. To break such an oath was unwise. Kaoru held her breath, hoping he had enough presence of mind to remember it.

Kenshin slowly lowered his katana, breathing deeply. Stiffly, he said: "Forgive me."

"Yeah," Sano said, with understandable wariness. Yahiko was in the background, mouth agape, eyes wide. Carefully, Kaoru slid around Kenshin' shoulder to stand, not quite between them, but as the third point to the triangle. She watched as Kenshin closed his eyes, took a ragged breath, and then opened them… Pale blue shot through with gold… Safe, for now.

"I… Forgive me," he said again, sounding almost normal. Both he and Sano were beginning to relax.

"It's alright," Kaoru said. "You weren't to know. I should have thought to…"

"I do not think any of us may claim responsibility," Kenshin interrupted softly. "It is an… irregular situation."

"Huh. So you mean you really are the Battousai?" Sano asked. Her gaze on Kenshin, Kaoru noticed the minute tightening of the skin around his eyes. He hesitated.

"What?" Yahiko jumped in, excitedly. "You're the Battousai? Really? There's no way we're gonna lose now! Not with you on our side!"

Kaoru saw a muscle jump in Kenshin's jaw. Yahiko continued, oblivious: "Hey, d'you think you could teach me a few moves?" The boy brought his fists together miming holding and swinging a sword.

"No," Kenshin said quietly, firmly. "I will never teach the _Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu_ to anyone."

"Awww," Yahiko started to protest, but Kaoru had gathered herself and now dropped a hand on the boy's head and rubbed downward perhaps a little too hard. "OW! Hey! What's the big idea, Ugly?"

"What are _you_ doing, Yahiko-chan?" she demanded. "Asking for lessons from someone else while your teacher is right here!"

"B-but Kaoru! He's the _Battousai_!"

"And I'm the assistant master of the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_!"

"Yeah, but—"

"You should not dishonor your teacher so," Kenshin spoke up. Kaoru and Yahiko froze, their heads turning. "Kaoru-dono is a strong swordswoman, you should be proud to be her student."

Yahiko stared, and Sano was watching thoughtfully, but Kaoru just felt a little flame of warmth kindle in her chest. Many men scoffed at a woman fighting with swords—even the women in the Messengers had only properly learned the glaive or bow, if they had learned a weapon at all. But Kenshin was acknowledging her skill, and best of all, he was sincere in his compliment.

"Well, yeah, a'course she is. I didn't start training under her for nothing," Yahiko said, and it made Kaoru a little happy despite what he said next. "But you're stronger than _everyone_."

There was a sudden rigidity to Kenshin's posture, and his eyes glinted yellow as he tilted his head to hide behind his bangs. "No. The last time I faced the Necromancer, I lost."

He turned on his heel and stalked away. There was a moment of silence, and then Sano said acerbically: "Good job, Yahiko-chan."

"S-shut up. And don't call me chan!"

Kaoru looked after Kenshin, biting her lip.


	9. Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu

**Author's Note:** Augh. Grad school is staking claim on my soul. I'm sorry this was late...

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_ "We need to go back to my home."_

_ "Why?"_

_ "Shishou! They're sick, and dying! We have to help!"_

_ "We can do nothing for them."_

_ "…Can't or won't?"_

_ "Idiot deshi, what is the first rule I taught you?"_

_ "We cannot use our Power to kill."_

_ "Your family is not sick from poison. Whatever is making them sick is alive."_

_ "So you want us to let those people die because what's killing them is also alive?"_

_ "We aren't _letting _them do anything. This is not our decision, it is our reality. If we use magic to kill the disease and cure those people, we will be twisting magic, and we will become a disease to the world. Do you want to save your family only to have them die from starvation as the blights come? Or perhaps you would like there to be a drought so bad fires rage through your village, burning it to the ground? No? Then what about floods, to drown them as they sleep?"_

_ "No! Shishou… I just…"_

_ "Idiot. You can feel it, can't you? The Power talking to you?"_

_ "It's telling me the same thing you are. I know, but…"_

_ "Power is never easy. It is never comfortable. You know this."_

_ "I know. I _know_."_

_ …  
"Please, Shishou… Can we go, if only so I can… say goodbye?"_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Kaoru lay on the futon in the room she was sharing with Megumi and three other women and stared at the ceiling. Kenshin had disappeared after the incident with Sano and Yahiko, hadn't even appeared for supper in the hall. Surely he would have heard the bell… and he'd been in an army before, so wouldn't he have known what it meant? She was certain that hadn't changed, even over centuries.

Maybe he hadn't been hungry…

_'Idiot,' _whispered Kaoru's subconscious. She rolled onto her side guiltily. '_What do you think?'_

She closed her eyes and tried not to remember the spirit draining from his eyes, violet fading to pale yellow. '_You could have gone to him. You told Hiko you wanted to help.'_

With a soft curse, Kaoru sat up. Quietly, she slid out from under the covers, tucking her clothing a little closer around her and retying the soft belt. The room was too crowded and dark for her to get properly dressed, but she grabbed her _haori _from the neatly folded pile of her clothes. Carefully opening and closing the room's door, she stepped into the hallway and paused to slip it on. The fabric was still stiff from newness, making it slightly uncomfortable, but Kaoru sighed a little with the pleasure of the garment's clean, laundered scent. It had been a while since she had had the joy of clean clothes.

She settled the collar and walked down the hall to the room Kenshin had been given. He had warranted a room to himself, so Kaoru didn't hesitate to knock softly on the doorframe. There was no answer, and she paused, tilting her ear to the door. She couldn't hear anything at all. She knocked again, with the same result. It had become apparent during their trek to Tokyo and then to Kyoto that Kenshin was a light sleeper. Kaoru would have sworn that even a light knock would have woken him.

As quietly as she could, she slid the door open. The room was empty, the door on the opposite wall open to the garden courtyard outside. The moonlight streamed in, outlining the still-folded futon set in the middle of the floor.

Kaoru stepped into the room fully, sliding the door shut behind her. She padded silently to the open outer door, and stepped onto the _engawa_. He was not there, either, not sitting at the edge or leaning against a pillar staring at the starry sky like anybody else who couldn't sleep would be. A slow scan of the garden yielded no redheaded legend, either.

Kaoru chewed her lip briefly, considering her options. She knew the most efficient way to find him, but was afraid of the consequences of it. However, it was the best way to find him without disturbing people and turning out the whole _dojo_… If he was still in the _dojo _at all. For all she knew, he had gone for a midnight stroll around Kyoto.

_'Yeah right. Stop stalling,' _she told herself firmly. Closing her eyes and taking a fortifying breath of cool night air, Kaoru reached in, and then _out_.

The small magic of _ki_-sensing was not in the purview of only swordsmen, but to be a truly good swordsman one did need to have some ability with it. Kaoru had always been adept with it; it was one of the reasons she had gotten so far in the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_, and it had helped her earn a place in the Messengers. It had kept her alive a number of times.

She had felt Kenshin's _ki _once before, knew what it felt like… and that was why she had hesitated. He was not a… comfortable presence. Still, she felt driven to find him, and this was the best way. Tentatively stretching out her senses, Kaoru quested for the unique flame of Kenshin's _ki_ among the dozens contained within the _dojo_'s walls.

_PAIN REGRET GUILT LONGING SORROWSORROWSORROW_

Kaoru gasped, and caught herself against one of the _engawa_'s pillars as the emotions thundering through her and her legs folded under her. She squeezed her eyes shut, dragging in a breath ragged with pain. A couple tears leaked from between her lashes and she struggled to close herself off from the raw, throbbing wound of emotions.

…_loneliness…_

Kaoru felt the echo of the feelings like an ache in her chest and she let out her breath in a weak sob. Discipline allowed her to shut everything out for a moment as she collected herself. The last time she had touched Kenshin's _ki_ it had been the barest of brushes, a light touch that had still been enough to hit her like a fist in the solar plexus. This time, she had gotten more.

She put her face in her hands, sobbing twice before she got a hold of herself and could wipe the tears from her cheeks without new ones coursing down. Breathing in a deliberate, deep, pattern, Kaoru dragged her sleeve across her face one last time. She stared blankly at the still garden.

Even knowing Kenshin's history from Hiko, and seeing the hints of guilt he carried with her own eyes, Kaoru hadn't expected such pain from him. It was nearly crippling. She almost couldn't believe he was still able to function, but… the magic. Whenever he struggled with it too much, she guessed that the kernel of magic still in him took all the emotion away.

Kaoru rose carefully to her feet once more, using the pillar as a crutch to make sure she wouldn't just crumple once more. She touched her cheeks briefly, hoping that it wasn't too obvious that she'd been crying, and strode off toward the training hall and Kenshin's burning _ki_.

She paused just outside the doors, hesitant, but not because of Kenshin. She hadn't been back to the _dojo_ since she left at fifteen, and had certainly never expected to enter the training hall ever again. Not with the manner of her leaving being what it was.

Sliding open the door, Kaoru tried to ignore her own feelings to focus on the seated form of Kenshin across the wide, empty room. He was in front of the _kamidana_, feet folded neatly under him, his head tilted up at the hanging calligraphy of _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_'s core principle: _Katsujin-ken_. The sword that gives life.

Kaoru hesitated mid-step, suddenly not sure if she wanted to intrude. Not sure she really wanted to see the expression on Kenshin's face that would match the emotions radiating from his _ki._

But her heart still ached from the pain and loneliness she'd felt there.

She slid the door shut behind her, depending on the soft glow of the candle Kenshin had brought with him to direct her. She padded near-soundlessly to Kenshin's side. He had to have been aware of her presence, but he gave no outward indication.

She sank down next to him, and traced the familiar strokes of the calligraphy with her eyes. The silence seemed to lean in around them, as if expectant.

Kaoru gave a soft sigh, and started talking. She wasn't sure just what she intended, but she didn't… _couldn't_ bring herself to draw up the topic of Kenshin's past. So she talked about her own.

"I became the assistant master of the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_ when I was fourteen. My father expected me to take over the school when he died." She paused, briefly regretful. "But I ran away to join the Messengers a year after I learned the _ougi_. My sister had already gotten my father's blessing to join, and had been a Messenger for two years. We had no other siblings, and my mother was dead. So, after I left, my father was alone."

She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I loved the sword. It wasn't that I wanted to escape that. It was just…"

"You felt you had a duty," Kenshin said quietly. Kaoru looked at him, but he was still staring at the _kamidana_.

"Yes," she agreed. "The _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu _teaches the sword that protects. What better way to protect people than as a Messenger? I felt that the philosophy of my style was best fulfilled that way; more-so than if I stayed in a _dojo _and just taught the style to others, barely living it myself.

"I think my father understood that, in the end. We fought about it, before I ran away. He said that I would be turning my back on him, and the sword-style he created, if I left. He said that if I went, my name would be stricken from the registry. But… He got sick and died a year later, and when he did, he left this _dojo _to me." Kaoru still remembered the pained grief she'd felt, knowing the last words she'd ever said to her father had been ones of anger, and the understanding that this had been her father's way of showing his forgiveness made her very bones ache with relief and sorrow. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "But those in service to the King cannot hold property."

"You gave the _dojo _to the King," Kenshin guessed. He was watching her now, his eyes kaleidoscopes of gold, blue, and violet.

"It seemed the logical thing to do. I didn't really want to sell it to a stranger. But I wasn't going to give up the Messengers, and neither was Tomoe. Especially not since that would also mean leaving Akira-sama." Kaoru paused.

"They… were… together," Kenshin said, his tone half questioning. Kaoru looked down at her hands.

"They were lucky," she said softly. "There were no nobles with marriageable daughters to require a political wedding. Akira could never have married Tomoe—we weren't nobility—but he would have kept her by his side. They loved each other. He would have never betrayed her, and she never would have left him. He would have… he was going to adopt any children from their union as his heirs."

"You also care for him," Kenshin observed.

"You have to be at least sixteen years old to begin training as a Messenger," Kaoru admitted. "When I ran away, I was fifteen. I was going to ask Tomoe to help me, either to help me lie about my age, or to help me persuade the Captain to accept me a year early. Instead, she took me to Akira. He… welcomed me like a sibling. He's always treated me like I was his little sister, when he wasn't wearing the mask of the sovereign. When I explained why I was there, he made me his personal runner. I ran messages and errands for him in the castle and the city for a year before I was old enough to join the Messengers."

She smiled suddenly. "On my first mission, I found Yahiko. He was being used by a small-town _yakuza_; they told him his mother owed them money, and were making him steal to repay them. I stopped them, and brought Yahiko back here. I took him to Akira, and he gave him my old position as runner. And I started teaching him the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_. I suppose… even though I didn't have the _dojo_, I felt compelled to pass it on. Yahiko has great potential. He is strong, and has a good spirit." Hesitantly, she added: "He's also rather tactless. I'm sorry, if what he said upset you."

Silence. She found herself unable to look at him. Finally, he said quietly: "Kaoru-dono should not worry about me."

"You can't expect me to just stop because you think I shouldn't," Kaoru said, looking at him. "I'm… I know that maybe the only reason you came with me was because you felt you owed me a life-debt. But you saved my life, more than once, in return. If anything, I owe you. And… And I care because I just spent the last two weeks with you as my only companion and if we aren't friends, we're at least comrades."

There was an even longer silence this time, and Kaoru flushed and looked away. Kenshin's voice, when he did at last respond, was thread-thin. "Thank you, Kaoru-dono."

She fidgeted, twisting her fingers together. "You're welcome," she mumbled. "And, um, I'm sorry I just barged in here. I hope I haven't been annoying you."

"No. You don't annoy me, Kaoru-dono," Kenshin replied, voice stronger. Kaoru's lips curved into a slight smile.

"I'm glad," she said. There was a pause, and then she asked: "What were you doing in here?"

For the third time, there was a silence, and Kaoru's heart sank. Had she stumbled upon some sensitive topic?

"I…" Kenshin said, hesitantly, "…was… curious. About the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_." He looked up at the calligraphy scroll again. "_Katsujin-ken_…"

Kaoru watched him, but he didn't elaborate. She looked at the scroll as well, and said: "My father was in the King's army for several years, patrolling the roads and taking care of bandits and highwaymen. He fought, and killed, with his sword. It disturbed him, to see those lives lost when a little more effort might have saved them. Certainly some of those men could not change—had been given multiple 'second chances' and had not reformed—but some of them were new to that sort of life. Maybe if they had been given jobs, or trained, they could have become lawful and good men. But, because they were where they were, they died. My father saw that loss, and regretted it. So, when he came home, he decided to create a new sword-style. One that protected and gave life.

"The most basic principle of the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_ is based on the idea that swords are merely tools, and it is the people who wield them that give them purpose. _Satsujin-ken_ and _katsujin-ken_. The character of a sword rises from the beliefs of the one who holds it. All of the disciples of the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_ use unsharpened blades, but my father could fight with an edged weapon and not kill a single opponent in his victories."

Kaoru gestured to the katana sitting on a stand in the _kamidana_. "That is his sword."

It had been given a new hilt and sheath after his death, plain but obviously well-crafted. The lacquer of the sheath was smooth and gleamed with reflected candlelight. Someone had been taking very good care of the _dojo_. Kaoru felt a rush of gratitude and fondness for the King.

"Our style is one that teaches discipline of the body and mind, and respect for life. It is the sword that revitalizes the spirit," she said, smiling at her father's katana.

"A sword is a weapon to kill people with," Kenshin said. His tone was soft, but Kaoru still flinched. She was used to people sneering at her beliefs, her father's style. For some reason, it hurt more, coming from Kenshin. "Swordsmanship is learning how to kill. This is what I learned was the truth, in the war against the Necromancer."

He turned his head ever so slightly, so that Kaoru could see his eyes—solid violet now—and gave her a sad sort of smile. "But… I think I prefer your ideas over the truth."


	10. Shadows in the Night

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews and follows and such. Your support is very much appreciated!

* * *

**For King and Country**

* * *

_By the time the disease had run its course, nearly all of the village was dead. What few survivors there were, left the village for parts unknown, retreating to distant family or the promise of the cities._

_ Kenshin buried his family, and everyone else. And then he quietly followed Shishou back to their mountaintop._

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

The sudden shriek of a man in terrible pain cut the still night air, sending both Kenshin and Kaoru jolting to their feet. When the shriek was abruptly silenced and then answered by alarmed shouting, they ran for the door. It thumped and shuddered on its runner as Kenshin reached it first and threw it open. Kaoru flew through it without stopping to close it again, mind intent on what was happening.

There were dark creatures within the walls, climbing over the roofs, fluttering like shadows across the courtyards. Kaoru's breath caught in her throat. Beside her, Kenshin hissed, and drew his sword in a flash of movement.

She hadn't noticed he had it still with him, but she probably shouldn't have been surprised. She wished she had had the foresight to carry her katana with her as well.

He thrust his empty sheath at her. "Kaoru-dono."

She took it, confused for a moment, but when she looked at him, his blazing yellow eyes were expectant. Oh. She flipped it in her grasp, holding it as if it were a sword itself. Kenshin nodded once, then was gone in a flutter of cloth.

The shadows… the _obake_… were concentrating their attacks on the main building. The King's Guard was trying valiantly to stem the tide, but there were a lot of them, and they blended into the night with disconcerting ease.

Kaoru glanced down once at her clothes, briefly lamenting her decision not to dress in more than a light sleeping _yukata_ and her _haori_. Kenshin had been clad in new, clean clothes—a kimono and hakama in the King's navy and cream.

_'The King's life is more important that your modesty,' _she told herself firmly, and suited actions to words.

Kenshin's sheath was heavier than she might have guessed—made of steel rather than wood. It was a comforting weight in her hands, even though it was a shorter weapon than she was used to. It was the length of a blade, only, lacking the extra double-handspan of hilt.

It passed through the _obake_ like they were smoke, and for all she knew, they were. A slash that would have cleaved an arm from a body passed right through, and the shadowy limb merely reformed in the wake of the sheath. The _obake _barely slowed down, its long, boney-looking fingers rising and curling into claws. Kaoru sucked in a breath, a bolt of fear pinging through her. How could you kill these things if you couldn't hit them!

_"Wait, breathe, listen." _Her father's patient words came back to her, and she calmed herself. She had seen what became of those who let their opponent fluster them, and she would _not _end up like that. Kaoru danced back from the _obake_'s swiping hand, and lunged forward when the thing over-reached and unbalanced itself. Her makeshift weapon whipped across its ill-proportioned chest and… hit something.

Kaoru gasped as the shadowed form dissolved, and that 'something' fell with a wet thud to the ground. She looked down, and gagged. There had been a dead dog in the _obake_'s chest, where a heart might have been. Perhaps this poor, mangled, rotting thing had _been_ its heart.

Kaoru could feel it, like a silent scream at the edge of her _ki_ sensing. This one faded, but now that she felt it, she could feel other muffled points of terror and pain in the other _obake_.

"Aim for the hearts!" she shouted to the Guards around her. They may have already worked it out themselves, but better she assume they hadn't. "Aim for the hearts! There are cores—things—inside them, holding the spell together!"

She began targeting the bulky, unnaturally-shaped torsos of the creatures, hoping that each had its 'heart' in approximately the same place. It seemed that they did, which made a certain kind of sense. It was as if the broken, dead things inside them acted as a framework for the magic and shadows that clung to, and formed, the _obake_. A spell-core. Such things were used in some of the Lesser Magicks. A house charm, for example, buried under the hearthstone—the heart of the home—spread its magic over the entire house.

That the _obake _spell-cores were dead things, animals, birds, people… That probably gave strength to their horrifying purpose of killing.

It was also probably why they felt like stabbing points of silent screaming to her _ki _sense.

She swallowed her horror and nausea back, concentrating on the fight. The sooner they were all gone, the sooner the _wrongness_ pressing on her spirit would ease. The _obake _fought with tendrils of their ink-black forms, the shadowflesh forming whips and claws and thin, razor-sharp blades. Their seemed to have some level of ability to manipulate their shapes—limbs growing longer, torsos twisting in ways that anything with bones could not manage.

The core of the _obake _she had just defeated fell to the ground and bounced once before rolling in a half circle to come to a rest face-up… literally. It was a human head, teeth bared in a grimace of agony, eyes sunken in the beginnings of rot. Kaoru recoiled in disgust and shock, momentarily losing her serenity. Another creature took advantage of her lapse and its lance-fingers stabbed forward, catching against her arm as she dodged just a touch too slow.

Kaoru hissed at the burn of torn skin, feeling the wetness of blood well and slowly slide down her bicep. She swung her 'sword' at the _obake _with extreme prejudice. It passed through its upraised arm and cracked hard against whatever thing that served as a core. She wasn't using very fine techniques—the trial and error of this night had revealed to her that force was the best way to defeat the _obake_. Knock the spell-core around enough and the magic held in it went away. This one finally gave under her hits with a sharp crack. The _obake _faded like smoke, and the core fell to the ground empty of magic. A turtle—that was why it had seemed more resilient than the others; she'd had to crack the hard shell before the spell held in its dead flesh was released.

Kaoru turned to find her next opponent, and blinked as she realized that there were no more. It was over. The sheath she grasped in her hands slowly lowered, and she breathed herself down. When her heart stopped thundering, and her mind shifted from its battle frame, she looked around urgently.

Akira was standing on the _engawa_, surrounded by his personal guards. He had a bare sword in one hand, and looked disheveled. But he was uninjured. Kaoru's legs suddenly felt weak, and she let out a shuddering breath, leaning against the edge of the _engawa._

"Kaoru."

She turned at the voice, meeting Kenshin's intense gaze, fierce gold. He looked her over carefully, and she became suddenly aware of her own state of dishabille. With the hand not clutching the sheath, she jerkily started folding and tucking her light sleeping _yukata _around her more firmly, covering her ankles and calves, closing the gap at her throat. Kenshin's eyes stopped at the blood on her arm, lightening.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Then, belatedly, "Kaoru-dono?"

"It's nothing. They've stopped bleeding already," she said, lightheaded with relief and fading adrenalin. She ran her eyes over him, also. There didn't seem to be a scratch on him.

"I am uninjured," he said, seeing her look. "I…"

"Kaoru!" Akira was hurrying over, his guards moving with him, looking wary and grim and worn.

"Kiyosato-sama," she said, bowing. He reached her, his guards parting and converging to subsume Kaoru and Kenshin into their protective ring with Akira.

"Kaoru, are you well? You're bleeding!"

"My lord, I'm fine," Kaoru said. "Please, you are not injured?"

"No," he said. "I was well-guarded." His eyes went to the scattered dead things at their feet, and a visible shudder ran through him. "What were those things?"

"_Obake_," Kenshin said. "Sent by the Necromancer, Kiyosato-sama."

"Kenshin…" Kaoru said, struck by a sudden fear. "Kenshin, it wasn't… We didn't lead them here, did we?"

"No," he said, firmly. "There were too many of them. We would not have missed such an army following us. They came another way."

"The Necromancer knows where we are," Akira said grimly. Kenshin nodded.

"I am afraid so. How long have you been here?"

"Ten days," Akira replied. "Before you warned us, we were using his name. Did that lead him to us?"

"Ten days… It's possible," Kenshin allowed, then changed the subject. "My lord, we need to leave."

Akira looked at him, and cocked his head. "The Necromancer knows where we are, yes, so we must leave this place. But you also mean that it is time you and Kaoru went on your way, don't you?"

Kenshin inclined his head, and Kaoru chewed on her lip. She hadn't expected they would so quickly be on the move again. She didn't particularly want to leave the relative comfort of this mobile 'Court' just yet. But there was no help for it.

"The Necromancer is far to the North," she said. "In the middle of the wastelands his Power has created."

Kenshin glanced at her. She gave a tiny, wry smile. "We tried, at first, to hit him back, in his place. But…"

"He has amassed an army of humans as twisted as he, and makes yet more armies of spell creatures," Kenshin said softly. "As before."

"We were routed," Akira admitted. "And changed our tactics."

"I will end this," Kenshin said.

"_We _will," Kaoru corrected fiercely, and glared when Kenshin turned bright gold eyes on her. His gaze warmed slightly a few shades, deepening to rich amber. It was enough of an acknowledgement, and Kaoru felt her expression relax. Kenshin turned back to Akira.

"We will need to cover a lot of land quickly. Would you have horses to spare us, Kiyosato-sama?"

"Yes. I will order them saddled, and provisions packed," the King replied. "In the meantime, Kaoru, I want you to see Takani-sensei, and have that wound cleaned and bound."

"Yes, Kiyosato-sama." She bowed.

* * *

"Messenger horses!" Kaoru exclaimed with joy when she saw the mounts the King had provided for them. She rushed over to them, greeting them with gentle hands and soft whispers. The blood-bay mare whose nose she was stroking whickered and rubbed against her as Kenshin followed at a more sedate pace.

"We lost so many of them when the Necromancer murdered them along with their riders," she told him, voice a little muffled as she turned her face into the mare's mane. "I hadn't known there were any left."

Kenshin patted the other horse, running a hand over its flank. "They are well bred."

"For endurance and speed," Kaoru agreed. She moved to check the packs clipped to the back of the saddles. She turned, and smiled at him. His answering smile was little more than a twitch of his lips, but it was there. He swung up on his horse.

"Time to go, Kaoru-dono."

"I suppose it is," she replied softly, looking back at the dojo. She had already said her goodbyes to Sano, Yahiko, and Megumi. The King had given them his blessings. Nobody would see them off, however. They were too busy preparing for their own journey; they would leave very soon after Kenshin and Kaoru, to find a new bolt-hole in which to hide from the Necromancer.

Swinging herself up onto the mare's back, Kaoru's eyes swung back around to face the road. A light squeeze around the horse's barrel, and the mare moved forward. A clopping sound behind her told her Kenshin was following.

They walked the horses out of Kyoto, and when they reached the less crowded and wider roads outside the city's limits Kaoru nudged her mare into an easy trot. Kenshin followed en suite. The pace was easy enough for the specially bred Messenger horses; they would be able to sustain a trot for most of the day. In truth, their riders' endurance would be the limiting factor more than the horses'. Kaoru had trained and become used to long hours in the saddle. She wasn't sure about Kenshin.

A glance backward told her that he at least has some practice riding. He sat well, and was posting with the movement of his horse. Good. That would make this journey easier.

They rode until the sun was just touching the western horizon. They had stopped twice for a few short moments, enough time to stretch muscles and make water, before mounting up again and continuing on. To save even more time, they ate in the saddle.

"You have spent some time on horseback," Kaoru observed when they finally stopped for the night. She had been watching Kenshin out of the corner of her eye since they'd dismounted, and hadn't noticed any stiffness or stilted movement beyond that which was normal after a day of riding. Kenshin set down the saddle he'd just taken off his horse and looked up at her, wiping his hands on his _hakama_.

"Yes," he said. "I was a skirmisher, but my King wanted me mobile, so I could be deployed quickly to whatever location at which I was needed. So I was taught horsemanship and given authority to requisition a mount at any time."

"Oh," Kaoru said. She removed her own horse's tack and pulled out the grooming tools. She worked diligently for a moment, the mare leaning into her strokes. "Kenshin?"

He looked up from his own grooming, eyes gleaming with the setting sun. She quickly looked away, worrying her lip. They continued in silence for a moment, before Kaoru, summoning her courage, managed to say, in a tone half questioning: "You don't like to kill."

She heard Kenshin go still, the cessation of the soft noise of bristles against horsehide. In contrast, her brushing sped up, as if she could erase the words with the sweeping movements. She could feel her face heating up, and hurriedly tried to apologize. "I'm sor—"

"You're right," Kenshin interrupted softly. "I don't like it."

She had thought as much. He was haunted by the blood on his hands; she'd sensed that when she'd touched his _ki_, and Hiko had implied it. "I—I'm sorry."

"For what, Kaoru-dono?" She glanced at him, and was trapped by his clear, purple gaze.

"Well, for… Because you are going to kill again… the Necromancer…" she explained haltingly. His gaze dropped, and he ran the tips of his fingers gently over the bristles of his brush.

"It is necessary," he said. "To have peace, the Necromancer must die. I failed to kill him before, and because of that, many are suffering. So, I will do my duty and finish this."

"Still, I… I wish…" Kaoru murmured, trailing off. The hope she was holding was foolish, she knew that, but she couldn't help it. Behind his polite exterior, Kenshin was hurting. Maybe it was naïve of her to want to heal that, but… She didn't think she had imagined the hope that had been in him when she'd told him about the _Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu_. He'd _wanted_ it.

"When I joined the King's army," Kenshin said, "it didn't take long before I had drawn the attention of Katsura-sama. He visited every training camp, and when he came to the one I was at, my commanding officer pointed me out to him. I had been making a name for myself among the men, defeating any who sparred against me. When Katsura-sama saw my skill for himself, he knew that I was perfect for the job he had in mind."

Kenshin paused, beginning to groom his horse again as the palomino headbutted his chest. "He asked me to become his sword, an elite and overt killer he could send in for a quick and precise strike wherever it was needed. At that point I had never used my skill to kill. He asked if I could, and…"

He was silent, brushing his horse meditatively. Kaoru knew better than to prompt him; in all the weeks she had known him, he had never been this forthcoming with his past. In a way, she was afraid that if she reminded him she was listening, he'd stop.

"I told him, 'If, when I finally lay down my blood-stained blade, there is peace, then I will gladly give my sword to your service.'" Kenshin finished grooming and shook off the loose horsehair on the brush. He kept his eyes downcast. "I was a young, naïve fool."

Kaoru winced, and opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it and bit her lip. Kenshin looked up and met her gaze. "However, I made my oaths. I took my orders and I completed them as best I could. All but the last. It is my duty to kill the Necromancer; if I do not, then all I have done in the past will have been in vain. I would dishonor all those I have slain if I did not see this through to the end."

She wanted to ask him what happened then, after he won. But she wasn't sure he was ready to answer, or that she'd like his response. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't going to do this alone, but she felt like his gaze had trapped her, like a fly in amber. She couldn't find the words.

He looked away, and lifted one of the saddlebags—"I will prepare dinner."—and the moment was gone.


End file.
